


Undertale Requests now with unimaginative titles

by Aeris_Blue



Category: Undertale
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Baby skeletons, Boredom, Comfort, Conversation, Family, Fluff, Growing Up, Hurt, Wartime, after accident, anxieties, dad feels, forgotten, surface - Freeform, that void life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-10-31 16:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17852987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeris_Blue/pseuds/Aeris_Blue
Summary: Undertale related requests1) Alternative ending to The Doctor’s Charges, 2) Writing between a younger WingDings and Gerson, 3) Grillster Angst, 4) Asgore meets baby skeles, 5) Papyrus and Flowey discuss hugs, 6) Grillby and Gaster babysit, 7) Gaster is hurt, 8) Grillby is hurt, 9) Grillby meets the Babybones, 10) Grillster Ice Skating





	1. Alternatively

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to open Undertale requests for anyone interested. I don’t do smut and my only real ship is Grillby x Gaster but I’m willing to write just about anyone. Other than that I’m not sure which rules to establish so we’ll see what comes up.
> 
>  
> 
> This one is an alternative ending to The Doctor’s Charges and probably does not make sense without at least reading the second to last chapter of that.

His assistant walked square shouldered in front of him a few steps. The casual sway of his steps matched the tempo of Hotland’s lazy heat ripples. They had a simple gait but he couldn’t help but feel he was giving it a bit too much attention as he tried to keep his mind clear.

His magic itched inside of his bones with eager anticipation to stroll across the Underground with tidings of wind and tree lines and exactly how it felt to see  _ outside _ . It was done, it was finally over. He bit his finger to straighten out the broadening grin that graced his skull. 

They were all going to get to see it together.

“I’m going to take care of the paperwork,” his assistant stretched to mask his own grin, “I’ll see you this evening Doctor Gaster.”

‘Thank you,’ he signed in an arch, ‘don’t forget this is as much your achievement as mine.’

“Geeze Doc what’s with the mush? It’s not like you to-“ he paused clumsily, “I can’t think of a rhyme.”

Gaster chuckled, ‘probably for the best, would hate to ruin the moment with your jests.’

“Yeah fair- hey!” Their ears twitched.

He laughed into his hand as he cupped it around his teeth, ‘you have paperwork to attend to I believe.’

“Yeah, yeah.”

The labs greeted him with steel colored nostalgia as he approached. Before long they would be abandoned, left by the wayside as monster after monster cleared a path to the surface. They stood as a beacon of development but they had served their purpose.

As they approached the doors he was greeted with the unexpected presence of two out of place faces. Sans smiled over to him wearing a gyftmas colored jacket while Grillby was in his regular attire but with a green bow tie and matching basket. His assistant slinked through the doors with a wink back to Gaster before they slid shut behind them.

“What are you two doing here?” He signed while he spoke.

“How did it go?” Sans asked with wide eye lights.

“I asked you first,” Gaster glared down to Sans doing his best to keep the teasing smirk out of his expression.

“You did it-“ his smile broadened, “you did it didn’t you?”

He took a short shallow breath, “I said nothing of the sort.”

“It’s written all over your face!”

Gaster wrapped his fingers around his mouth as if he could cover it up. Sans was always so perceptive of expressions he should have known it would be his downfall. Granted, he’d thought there was more time before he would have to encounter the living polygraph. 

Asgore had sworn both himself and his assistant to secrecy before they parted ways.The full announcement would be made following Gyftmas to allow one last holiday in the Underground just in case war broke out once they met the humans of the surface. Despite the vow Asgore had stated he could bring his boys with him this evening to finally meet the Surface. 

He nodded his head- it was stiff and hesitant but the smile that reached across the boy’s eye sockets was worth giving away the secret. Grillby on the other hand remained fairly stoic not displaying anything across his flames.

“Now that I’ve revealed my secret, what brought you two here today?”

Sans gave a teasing glance up to Grillby, “I’m here to take back my leave of absence. If we’re going up to the surface you’re going to need all the hands you can get.”

Gaster smirked, “fair enough,” he turned to Grillby, ‘thank you for escorting him. This conversation would be entirely different if he’d have come all this way on his own,’ he gave a teasing glare down to Sans.

‘Actually,’ Grillby signed back, ‘we were both just heading the same way.’

“Good thing though that earthquake would have crushed me if not for him,” he tapped Grillby’s arm with the back of his hand playfully. 

That was all it took for his paternal impulses to kick in, “are you alright?” His eyes flared yellow as he analyzed his child’s stats and looked over every inch of exposed bone.

“I’m fine,” Sans chuckled.

That earthquake had taken everyone by surprise there wasn’t any real warning from the caverns around them and it had been ages since the last one. He and his assistant were passing through the Core with the Delete device at the time. The walkway buckled below them and the pair were sent free falling down into the pits of their containment unit. If he’d have hesitated for a moment in the summoning of his- He furrowed his brows, what was it? It was his magic, distinctly his, but he couldn’t place what it was. Regardless it had spared both of them from that fate and allowed them enough space to climb to safety. 

He hadn’t really had time to process it until now, they literally just picked up and headed to the barrier without so much as a word about it. It had been terrifying. What would have happened if he had hesitated for even a moment?

“Not to mention the fire he put out in the Core,” Sans boasted which pulled Gaster from his spiraling thoughts.

‘The Core is on fire?’ He signed frantically.

Grillby looked down to his shiny black shoes against the burnt orange stonework of hotlands, ‘I took care of it. Though I don’t know what started it.’

He was relieved that the encroaching panic he felt was unnecessary though it spoke volumes to how spooked the pair of scientists were if they didn’t notice while they were inside of it.  He would need to see reports to account for the damage and should probably get to that soon. Monsters weren’t leaving the Underground for a little while it would be a shame to spend their last weeks in complete darkness. ‘Sounds like you two were busier than I was.’

“Yeah well we didn’t free all monsterdom so,” Sans acted as if he was weighing the actions in  both hands. “But hey I’m gonna go take care of that leave notice if you two wanna talk,” he winked to Grillby, “see ya at home Dad.”

“You’re still not authorized for shortcuts!” Gaster shouted to him as the doors shut. He sighed, ‘I probably should get to figuring out what happened with the Core.’

‘Would you humor me with lunch?’ Grillby raised the basket that hung on his arm slightly.

‘Well,’ Gaster acted as if he was deep in thought before a smile curled from his teeth, ‘when do I ever turn down your cooking?’

Grillby crackled a laugh a short jack o’ lantern smile grew across his face in a dark red line. ‘Follow me,’ Grillby signed before he grabbed Gaster’s hand.

Gaster looked down to the orange flames wrapped around his off white bones. Stars, it had been a long time since he let the fire lead him around like this. It was so familiar as if it was just yesterday Gaster had tugged the monster through the whole of the Underground in rushed attempts at exploration. When they were kids they were basically joined at the hand but- well, things change. 

He hadn’t even realized until the cold air sent a shiver down his spine that they were at the spot. The one that overlooked the Underground with little more than a safety rail to prevent someone from toppling into the Waterfalls. The soft green tufts poked up from the cool gray rock and tempered steel to greet them. 

Green seemed to be the theme for the day, he looked down to the green basket his friend set atop the stone. “I’d wanted to make this that date,” Grillby’s voice was as soft as the distant sound of water through the caverns below.

‘Date?’

“The one you promised after the experiment was done,” he smiled pleasantly, “me being the monster I am I wanted to take that literally.” His fleck like eyes locked onto the basket, “then this morning- your eye,” his flames flickered warmly in a soft woosh of sound, “Sans and Papyrus were so excited for you. But they don’t know like I know what that meant to you.”

“They didn’t see you spend hours reading on kindness as if it was a foreign concept, doing ridiculous experiments to try to find numbers that could make it real,  trying desperately to heal even the smallest of papercut hoping that it would just happen and you could see it inside of you,” his glasses steamed up, “I was there for all of it.”

‘Sorry,’ his boney knuckles slid across his chest.

“When I saw your eye this morning I thought it was a sign and I got to work,” he opened one side of the basket gingerly as if light would harm the contents inside. He retrieved a sandwich made on green bread with colored mayonnaise and cucumbers, “I wanted you to be able to revel in it with someone who knew what it meant to you.”

He passed the sandwich off as a jagged smirk cut across his face, “and of course to catch up on a couple centuries worth of ‘I told you so’,” he rubbed his elbow against the skeleton’s ribs before his demeanor slowly soured. 

“But something happened today… and I really, really, need your help.”

Gaster wiped the green mayonnaise off of his teeth, ‘of course Grillby,’ a pair of hand bullets signed, ‘you know I’d do anything for you.’

“This isn’t something small, well it is-” His flames were starting to match his bowtie as he began to fuss.

‘I’m right here,’ he set his hand on Grillby’s knee.

The monster took a deep breath and reached both hands into the the basket to retrieve a small flickering green flame. Gaster tilted his head to the side as he inspected the object. It wasn’t until two black fleck like eyes peered up into his sockets that he could make out the subtle curves of arms and legs. His soul thrummed in his chest, “a baby Eternal.”

“The fire started on just the Core but then it spread to the residential district and with so much magic in the Underground it didn’t take much to make a hearthstone I guess.”

Gaster held his hands out and gently took the tiny flame close to his ribs. They were so small but their soul was wild as it beat with the tenacity of the fire that coiled around it. It was a new life. So small. So frail. So weak.

He coaxed his boney finger under their palm positively delighted when it wrapped tiny tuft like fingers around the bone, ‘what are you thinking then?’

“I don’t know,” his flames rose and fell atop his form as uncertain grays whispered amongst his brilliant oranges, “I don’t know if I should leave it to grow up on its’ own like Eternals are supposed to, or if I should take them in, but I don’t know anything about being a parent, I don’t know what a little flame needs, and if we’re going up to the surface- Gaster I’m still terrified of humans! I don’t know what I’d do if they tried to hurt them.”

The green flamling looked over to the older fussing Eternal and reached their spare hand out, ‘you’ll make a great father,’ Gaster smiled, ‘you want to raise them right?’ Grillby’s flames popped a few times before he nodded his head. ‘I’ll be right here with you, pouring you all the glasses of orange juice you can handle,’ he passed the tiny flame back to Grillby.

“I can’t be a parent though,” his flames brightened as he secured the child in his arms, “I have the highest LV in the Underground, I’ve killed-”

Gaster wrapped his fingers around Grillby’s hands, ‘they don’t see that. Not until their older and by then you’ll be surprised that they can accept it and still look at you as little more than their parent. You’ll make mistakes but never will they despise you for them… or who knows maybe my boys are just the perfect children,’ he smiled broadly.

“Which is the perfect one? The lazy pun loving ketchup eater or the loud eccentric one with the complete disregard for physics?” Grillby’s smile grew cockeyed as he jested.

‘Both of them are perfect,’ Gaster signed with finality.

“Alright, alright, your boys are great!” Grillby chuckled which inspired the little one to squirm, his flames flushed in pale shades before he gently rocked the flamling, “you sure I can do this? Eternals don’t really do this sort of thing.”

‘You’re more than an Eternal Grillby, you always have been.’

His fleck like eyes softened behind his glasses, “thank you.”

‘Anytime,’ Gaster signed bouncily, ‘now why don’t we get the proud new P-A-P-A and baby home?’ He grabbed the basket then extended his hand down to the flame.

“Papa?”

Gaster shrugged, ‘your flames sort of pop pop when your happy.’

Grillby chuckled, “you’ve spent far too much time with Sans.” He ran his thumb along the side of the little ones head. “I’ve never seen a little one of my kind before,” his flames hushed, “I just want to do right by them.”

Far before adoption days well spent, before burnt eggs, or adventures through the underground, even before pictures of a sickly child he’d been in the same place. He poured his soul over lists upon lists of cons, drowned himself in his work, in a desperate attempt to talk himself out of making the biggest mistake of his life that turned out to be his greatest blessing. Looking back it all felt quite silly but it had been terrifying once.

Now Grillby was there grasping desperately at a line he didn’t know he was supposed to deliver.

‘That’s the perfect place to start,’ Gaster confirmed, ‘it isn’t easy but just keep that at the forefront of your mind.’

Life was going to keep continuing, keep changing, in a flow that even he couldn’t predict, but that’s what would keep it so very very interesting.

They returned the little flame to the mostly full picnic basket as they made their way back to the bitter cold of Snowdin. They stalled outside of the bar for a moment before Grillby turned back to him, ‘would you mind helping me make a nest or something for them first?’

“Sure, I have extra blankets I can lend to you, I think there are still plenty of boxes from moving,” he mentally scanned over the inventory of the brothers home as they approached the door. Once again, the door was left unlocked but it was becoming apparent that would be a losing battle. “Feel free to-”

“Surprise!” Came a multitude of shouts from the living room that left Gaster’s poor old soul halfway exposed before he drew it back into his chest.

He didn’t even need to turn his eye light back on to know who all was crammed into the tiny room. Asgore was busy putting the last touches on a cake with frosting, while Undyne froze mid argument with Gerson, Alphys gave a shy little over to him, and his son’s stood front and center without any shame. ‘Boys! Will you stop doing this to me?!’

“Never! We will throw you all of the parties!” Papyrus cheered, “we are so proud of you!”

Gaster’s face threatened to paint itself violet, he gave a curt little glare over to Sans who signed: ‘just Papyrus’ back to him. 

‘Alright what is this for?’

“Monsters don’t need a lot of reason to celebrate with the bone we’ve been thrown,” Gerson shrugged.

“But when one of our own achieves something they’ve worked on for so long that’s more than enough!” Asgore chuckled.

It was then that he noticed the green piping bag Asgore was holding, the emerald vest Gerson dawned, the skirt Alphys wore, and the knee length coat Undyne had ripped the sleeves off of. This was all for something as stupid as his eye glowing green? Had he really made such a big deal about it? He wrapped his fingers around his increasingly warm cheeks.

“Well I’ll be,” Gerson smiled, “it does glow.”

Gaster rubbed below his good socket the subtle glow cast onto his finger just enough to be able to see tacky green color. Asgore smiled broadly, “my, my, certainly a unique shade.”

Okay, the attention had to get off of him before his face blistered with the purple magic pumping into it, ‘Grillby has a baby Eternal.’

Grillby sparked, ‘this is about you! Not me!’

“Oh Grillby can we see them?” Asgore’s eyes were as bright as the night sky as they sparkled in anticipation of the young flame’s appearance. 

Just like that it shifted from a surprise party of Gaster’s proof of kindness to a birthday celebration for the young green flame. Gaster could hardly complain about the development.

Everyone was together and happy under the same roof. They were such an odd family with folks from all walk of life but as they fussed over the little flame, as they teased Gaster, or just talked amongst themselves the lines hardly mattered. It didn’t feel quite so much like patchwork anymore, the stitches had been tightened, the edges finished, to make a grand quilt perfectly capable of keeping the whole family warm. 

All Gaster could wish was that the surface held much more of just this.

Slowly the monster’s began to depart until it was just the three skeleton’s and the king. Asgore placed a paw on Gaster’s shoulder, “are you ready?”

Gaster looked to his boys, wrapped his hands around theirs, then nodded up to his old friend.

They made their way through the Underground, up into the palace, to the site where the barrier once stood. You could still feel the lingering magic in the air. The assistant’s ears perked up as the group approached before they all turned down the narrow corridor.

The first oddity was the taste of the air faint with recently fallen rain as a week breeze blew into the open cavern. Papyrus’s hand tightened against his father’s as the nerves began to take him but Gaster squeezed his hand in return then rubbed his shoulder lightly against Papyrus’s. The future was uncertain but it should be met with wonderment today not fear.

Finally they stepped through the purple doorway to the Surface.

Centuries of imprisonment were over.

A fear of running out of provisions and being snuffed out were gone.

Having to wait desperately on the murder of another child wasn’t relevant.

They were free.

The leaves on the treetops rustled in an avoidance of the wind as it yielded to the monsters who hadn’t felt it before. The stars hung overhead shining beacons brighter than any crystals could hope to be. Sans tilted his head up to the sky with a contemplative look before he laughed, “they’re real,” he wiped his sockets, “they’re really real.”

“Brother, which star is that?” Papyrus pointing to the glowing sphere in the sky that radiated a pale light across them.

“That’s not a star, that’s the moon,” Sans smiled.

Papyrus wiped at his sockets, “Sans your magic- you’re so happy! I don’t-” He scooped his brother up into his arms, “we’re here!”

“We’re here!” Sans cheered.

“Hello surface!” Papyrus shouted, “I am the Great Papyrus and I can’t wait to meet all of you!”

His assistant chuckled into his paw as he watched the boys with glassy eyes, “such loud children, someone should teach them caution,” he turned his nose up in a display of distaste.

The fur on Asgore’s cheeks were matted with tears but he didn’t dare speak as he took in the city below. 

They were here. After all the murder, all the loss, they were here. The humans had to be peaceful by now, they had to have forgiven the past or learned from it or something because this was too light, too full of joy, to be yet another false hope.

Gaster’s vision blurred, the world  as he fell backwards as too many emotions flooded his mind at once. Luckily, he had two very good sons. 

Sans snagged his soul blue while Papyrus reached out to catch him. A touch of worry intruded against their hopeful smiles but Gaster assured it away as he sat against the stone. Sans sat to his left while Papyrus flanked his right. He wrapped an arm around each of his precious sons as they stared up to the limitless ceiling above them.

As they tasted clean air.

As the breeze brightened their spirits.

“I love you both,” he tapped his teeth to the side of each of their skulls.

This was what they deserved a future brimming with possibilities and hope. It wouldn’t always be perfect but he had faith they would make the most of it. He was just happy to be there with them for this truly happy beginning. 


	2. The Stars are on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long while apart WingDings is eager to reunite with his friend Grillby but things are different now and he's not sure why it's bothering him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wasn't requested but I think I'm also going to use it as a dump or at least this time it is. I just wanted this piece I wrote forever ago to have a home since it doesn't seem like it's going to fit anywhere else.

As soon as Wingdings feet hit the ground they were up again, the world around him blurred as he dodged around anything that may hinder his progress. His soul pulsed strong through his bones as he tore over the side of the hill to view the incoming troops. The smile across his face tug so tightly he didn’t need to check to make sure it was genuine. He tried from his vantage point to spot the flickering bright orange of his friend but they were all black smudges against the green field.

He leapt from the hillside to dash downward, careful to avoid any ensnaring divots in the ground. He could almost make out the faces of the monsters closest to him when something firm grasped his arm. His forward momentum pulled him backwards against the grip resulting in him lying against the grass looking up at his captor.

“Boy what are you doing?” Gerson’s claws released his boney arm as he attempted to right himself.

‘I’m going to see Grillby,’ his hands signed hastily as he pressed himself to his feet.

“Grillby is a soldier now, not a child, he isn’t coming to play with you,” he spoke firmly his golden eyes locked on the skeleton’s sockets. 

Wingdings eyes glew yellow in response but he rubbed it away, ‘it’s Grillby Gerson,’ he chuckled, ‘he’s not like you.’ 

Gerson let out a sigh, “don’t say I didn’t tell ya better.” He gestured for the child to go which he happily complied to. 

He watched from a distance, his hood pulled over his skull, as the soldiers marched to the camp grounds. It was the regular mess of pitching tents, sorting tools, and preparing for their dinner as sounds and smells filled the air. When the sun began to set it was an effortless endeavor to pick out the flame amongst the furred and scaled monsters.

Grillby stood even in height with the other monsters at his side as they elbowed him with teasing smiles. He was dressed in a gray tunic with chainmail that sparkled in the shades of the setting sun. He was so tall now, Wingdings blinked, suddenly self conscious of his stature. His friend was right there, just a few strides away from him but a distance he hadn’t anticipated settled in his soul with a worrying weight.

He crouched against his hiding place his hand firm against the stone as he listened to the roar of chatter the camp provided. He focused as much as he could on the two monsters with Grillby. One was a white dog monster in a suit of enchanted armor and the other was reptilian with eyes that stung against the darkening background. “Hey thisss isss the camp you came from right?” The lizard asked.

“Yes, they took me in after my home was destroyed,” the voice was a near whisper against the others filled with subtle crackles as his flames attempted to speak for him. 

Wingdings clutched at his ribs, a tense smile against his face, Grillby could talk so well now. His small boney fingers could feel the night air breeze through every exposed bone. 

Gerson was right, Grillby wasn’t the little kid that had left, he was a soldier, he didn’t need some pathetic coward of a monster dragging him down. He grasped his hands around his knees tight enough to make the joints issue a complaint.

He thought he had grown so much in the last few months, every experience making him stronger, wiser, but he was still exactly the same as he was. 

Grillby crackled a laugh at something the dog had barked, he had friends now. Friends he could actually talk to and understand, friends that knew his experiences, friends willing to give up everything to fight for a cause, a purpose.

Wingdings felt his bones begin to tease a rattle so he stood up but he refused to allow it. He pulled his hood tight over his skull and walked back to his tent, each step slow, deliberate. He grabbed his bag off of the floor cramming as many books, parchment paper, and ink he could muster into the thin, wearing, fabric. A small curse escaped him as the bag threatened to topple him over. All of his magic and it meant nothing to his strength, he was a skeleton, he couldn’t be strong.

He hadn’t noticed his eye lights had flicked off until he entered the woods and was suddenly enwrapped in darkness. He forced them back on as he looked for an ideal spot to hide away for a while, just for the evening, he’d have his bearings back by morning. He’d go work in the medical tent stocking up items to prepare for whatever blood bath had brought so many troops together. Just like he had before.

Two outstretched branches framed the sky above as close to the stars as he could hope to be. A bone conjured in front of him, then another, before the first slid in front of the second as he pressed himself skyward on his magic staircase. Once level with the branches he carefully laid a series of bones between them to create a platform to stand on. 

The bones were spaced evenly apart, just barely enough of a gap he could slip his hand through if he wanted. He tested it gently with his hand before he shrugged his backpack onto the makeshift floor. He let out a soft puff of air as he balanced across the surface grasping the branch above for support in case his magic suddenly gave way. The bullets illuminated the air around him with a pale white glow that inspired the leaves to impersonate the starlight they masked.

He sat down then pulled his bag up close to him tugging the crammed books out one by one and setting them in a semi circle in front of him. His hands hesitated against the spine of a red bound book with intricate gold writing pressed into the surface. He shoved it back into the bag, he wasn’t ready to read that, not now hopefully not ever. He opened the three books to the pages regarding green magic.

Kindness was innate in all monsters. It’s what made up their being as such any monster could heal by at least a marginal amount even if it just resulted in soothing. Somewhere deep inside him there had to be green there just had to be.

His eyes darted between the books as he cross referenced the studies, phantom hands turned the pages as he fell into his work. He wasn’t a fighter, he’d managed to relieve himself of that idiotic belief ages ago, but he still wanted to help his friends.

‘But you want to fight,’ one of the conjured sets of floating hands signed.

‘You’re just too weak to be of use to anyone,’ the other set supplied.

Wingdings cringed as the hands began to banter back and forth in his inner monologues. He reached to disperse them but they merely flickered before rematerializing. 

‘Even now you’re hiding away,’ the first set shrugged turning the palms up with a slight bob of movement.

‘You ran away when things got out of control, you didn’t even try to stop him,’ the second set ventured closer.

‘You ran away to get help because you were too pathetic to do anything,’ the second set signed.

He curled against himself, why were they doing this? Signing without his will, fluttering away with thoughts he didn’t wish to share. That’s what  _ he _ did. He didn’t want to be  _ anything  _ like him. All he wanted to forget those thoughts for a while. He was in control of his magic, his fingers tensed and the bullets curled in on themselves.

His eyes glew red and his magic responded justly. The starlight white melted away to a hellfire red as he glared at the offending bullets which shattered into shards when he snapped his hand closed. The platform below him threatened to do the same but he stabilized it below his feet. When had he become such a coward? Hiding behind text hoping somehow his magic could miraculously protect the friends he was nowhere near. He was strong, he could fight- but he was born with this weak form, he picked up the book closest to him and tossed it into the night.

“I’m not a coward!” he shouted into the darkness as red tainted his hands. He stared down at them with a growing sense of panic. Vials, injections, monsters that weren’t, he took several calming breaths until white crackled its way along the crimson bones. He sat back down cursing as he realized the book he’d tossed was his new one. 

Red magic wasn’t scary, red had saved his life several times, it was his magic, being afraid of one's magic was detrimental to their health and mental well being. He had saved Toriel with red, he had fought back an ambush with red, it was there to keep the tiny frail skeleton safe.

“Hey boy! You done with your tantrum?” came a voice like a cliffside giving way. Wingdings guiltily peered over the edge to see Gerson staring up at him, his arms crossed around an object. “You wanna come down here?” Wingdings pulled away from the edge, “or you can help me up boy, but I’m not leaving.”

His eyes flared purple, he could stay up here much longer than the Turtoise could stay down there. He placed one of the books in his lap then pulled out his vial of ink and a broken quil. Gerson grew restless below as he took to pacing against the cold night air. Monsters like him needed heat to sustain themselves, a shame it was such a cold evening, he’d have no choice but to retreat.

“Come on kiddo, please,” Gerson’s voice had a soft crack to it that shifted Wingdings eyelights back to white. 

He peered over the edge of his fort again and with an excessively dramatic sigh turned Gerson’s soul purple, “what are you doing?” Gerson the immovable object, the Hammer of Justice actually sounded nervous, Wingdings chuckled as one of his hand bullets traced a line of purple into the air.

He watched, with more than mild amusement, as Gerson timidly placed one foot in front of the other to scale the purple string at a rate befitting of his species. As he climbed closer to the makeshift platform he sealed his yellow eyes, Wingdings couldn’t help himself but laugh, Gerson was afraid of heights. He clutched at his ribs as a loud laugh poured from him cutting into the night and carving away the tension he had been holding.

When Gerson finally clawed his way to the top he quickly scurried to the center of the platform right past Wingdings, “laugh it up boy.” Wingdings gave a salute as his fit subsided, he rubbed half formed tears from his eye sockets with a tired smile. “If I was meant to be in the air I’d have wings,” he scoffed under his breath. “This thing is stable right?” He looked down at the bones across the arches green scales paled as his vision got stuck on the grass below.

‘Of course,’ Wingdings signed.

Gerson didn’t look convinced as he slowly squatted to a sitting position staring defiantly at the tree behind Wingdings to avoid looking down. Wingdings rested his back against the trunk as his hand bullets worked at putting his books away. “Grillby was lookin’ for ya, guess you couldn’t find him in the camp?”

Wingdings eye lights fell to the side, of course this was going to be about him. Gerson waited for a response, his claws drumming against the object he had tucked close to his shell. He let out a sigh tossing the book in front of Wingdings, “be more careful where ya throw your stuff next time okay?”

Wingdings signed a quick ‘sorry’ against his chest. The crickets were the only creatures daring at a conversation as they sung their song across the grass. Wingdings knees were attempting to fall into his ribs as he curled them tight to his chest. 

“Why are you up here?” Gerson finally broke the crickets song.

Wingdings shrugged as his only mean of response earning an intense glare from Gerson, “Kid, I’m up here cause I learned along time ago leaving you alone was a bad idea, so we’re gonna try this whole talking thing for a change.” Gerson’s claws danced in the air in a flurry of meaningless gestures.

“But I can’t talk,” Wingdings smirked.

“None of that sass boy,” Gerson scoffed. Of course he couldn’t understand what was being said but he knew Wingdings well enough to take a guess.

“Look I’m up in one of the tallest trees in this dang forest trying to talk to ya, I think I’ve earned some answers.” Wingdings head pulled back until he was staring at the canopy above an exasperated sigh escaped him. “So why are you up here kid?”

‘I thought I’d feel better when Grillby was back, and now he is but I don’t,’ he fidgeted with the clasp on his cloak before forcing his hands away to trace over his fingers instead. ‘Cause you were right he grew up he doesn’t need someone like me around.’

“Kid I just didn’t want you to think it was going to be the same he’s always been made outta different stuff.” WingDings’s fingers scratched over his soul as he listened, made out of different stuff. He’d heard that before. “But,” Gerson paused with a smile across his beak, “he is still your friend or he wouldn’t be looking for ya.” 

WingDings smirked at that, so he was being ridiculous then. There was some comfort in the thought, some sadness too, but at least Grillby still wanted to see him. Granted, the monster had no idea what he’d been through since he left, ‘Gerson.’ His fingers curled into his palms before he signed, ‘am I really not like other monsters?’

All of his studying all of his readings and analyzing hadn’t brought him any closer to an answer. He had friends he had Toriel, Asgore, Grillby, and even Gerson depending on the day, but he always felt so distant from them. At first he figured it was because he was a silly little skeleton against monsters of substance but the more time he spent with them the more he realized the differences. During his apprenticeship his master had taken the kindness upon himself to explain exactly how different he was.

He wanted so desperately to believe that the distance between him and his peers was a figment of his exhausted mind but he kept drawing lines. He kept feeling further and further from them when all he wanted to do was be like them. He wanted to heal, to feel, as brightly as Toriel could, he wanted to stand strong but kind like Asgore, but he couldn’t because there was something that told him he wasn’t like them, or Grillby.

Or maybe not something.  _ He _ had taught him a lot about his oddities and explained exactly why he should hesitate to call himself a monster. There just wasn’t anything else he could be.

Gerson scratched under his chin, “I ever tell ya how I became the Hammer of Justice?” Wingdings brows knit together before he slowly shook his head. Gerson drew a breath, “I was asked to investigate a human mage camp suspected with imprisoning monsters. What I found still makes me sick.”

He shook his head, “ya know how human bodies don’t dust right? They sort of, well over time they-”

‘Decay,’ Wingdings eyes lost their light as he looked to the Turtoise, where was this going?

“Right,” Gerson’s beak twitched before he started again, “well it seemed they were scavenging their own battlefields, raided cities, anywhere a corpse could be found, for fallen humans with even the slightest trace of magic potential. Kids, adults, elderly, didn’t matter what they were they had a touch ‘uh magic to them they were picked up and brought to this camp.”

He scratched at the scales on his arms, “then they would clean ‘em up all the way down to the bone.”

Wingdings shuttered, he’d seen humans split open by monster attacks their white bones singing against the rose red that humans emitted. He scratched at his sternum trying to look as unphased as he could muster with the crawling sensation inching along his vertebrae.

“They’d collect all of them and bring them back, have their black clad mages give them a second life to fight for them. They behaved kinda like an Elemental they just wanted orders to execute they didn’t need anything else,” he shut his eyes as Wingdings’s neutral expression flinched into a worried frown. “They called it the Necromancy Project, and I took my team in and we brought justice to all of those not-monsters and the cruel humans that made them that way.”

‘Are you saying that’s me? That I am one of those things?’ Wingdings’s fingers were twitching as they signed making it very difficult to read. Ice settled on the inside of his bones, wouldn’t he remember something like that? 

“I don’t have a lot of proof,” he pulled a flask from his inventory unscrewing the lid before promptly placing it back on the lip. “But the base was nested between two mountain ridges that hooked upwards like claws, not too far from a sleepy little city,” he shrugged. The air filled with the rattling of bones that startled the crickets into silence. “Kid? Kid,” Gerson warily crawled over to Wingdings shaking his shoulder gently.

His mind raced with thoughts: he’d died? He was a human once? Some sort of magic project just like- just like those abominations his master had- “So, I’m just human garbage,” his eye sockets widened, “that’s why you won’t call me by name! You knew! You knew from the very beginning,” his shoulders slumped as the rattling came to a stop. 

Everything spun to a stop. 

He had no reason to be upset, if that’s what he was that’s all it came to. The reason he couldn’t quite fit in with monsters was because he wasn’t one. He was one of those disgusting, murderous creatures, that despised monsters, that dusted skeletons as if they were nothing.  

He was being dramatic. Of course he was something so vile.

A texture overwhelmed him, it was dripping, cold, wet: water. It was water. Water magic. It was in his eye sockets draining through the base of his chin. He coughed shutting his eyes firmly before wincing them open. 

“You here kid?” Gerson had his hands a bit too firmly against Wingdings’s collar bones as he sat just inches away from his face. He squirmed to get away but Gerson held him tight, “don’t move.”

Wingdings’s eye lights fell to the floorboard he had created, several of the bones were gone and the few that remained were transparent only offering enough of a glow to see they existed. Wingdings chortled leaning back against the trunk. He returned the bones to their to regular white glow which allowed Gerson to relax ever so subtly. 

“I wasn’t tellin’ ya that cause it’s what you are. You like information I thought it was something you could look into,” Gerson still had his hands on Wingdings’s shoulders, there wasn’t a lot of space between the edge of his shell and the edge of the floor. 

“I know that Royal Naturalist guy said some things that have been messin’ with ya,” he nodded, “I- I just thought it would help to have something to look into.” Gerson’s beak clapped together in a short clicking sound a few times, “now can we please get down?” Gerson’s voice was much more fitting of the Hammer of Justice then what he had been using.

Wingdings didn’t say anything, he turned the monster’s soul purple then created another purple chord down to the ground with one of his hand bullets. Gerson kept his eyes shut the whole way down opening them very slowly when he felt grass slip between his clawed feet. He looked up to the tree expectantly folding his arms as he waited haughtily on the ground.

Wingdings hoisted his bag onto his back. He stood with one hand placed against the tree and the other tapping the base of his eye socket. He let his magic flicker, yellow, cyan, yellow, cyan, it built up inside of him until he felt nearly nauseous. He just needed to push it a little further, cyan, yellow, he grabbed at his non-existent stomach his eyes glowing purple as he urged himself not to puke. His bones stung with an acidity as the anticipated magic died away lost in the soft violet light.

With a soft  _ ping _ his soul matched the color. He placed his feet firmly on the line and slid down to the grass below. He dissipated the remaining bones from the treeline letting the forest give way to the night once again.

“You okay kid?” Gerson nudged him with his elbow.

Wingdings gave the question some thought. He felt the way his magic curled in his bones, the weight his negative form seemed to hold, the way the wind seemed to blow gently past him without touching him. He hadn’t felt like this before, it wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good, it was nothing. Just nothing. He lifted his hands to sign but he dropped them in exchange for a shrug.

“I’m sorry kid I shouldn’t ‘uh told ya,” Gerson rubbed the back of his neck.

‘No,’ Wingdings signed looking into the middle distance, ‘I’m glad you did though. Well not now. Maybe not ever.’ His eye lights flicked off, ‘but I like to know things.’ He moved forward stepping towards the campsite.

“If it means anything to ya, ain’t never heard a human talk like ya.”

WingDings paused to stare at the grass between his toes, ‘no. I guess not.’

“And where some humans can use magic they can’t turn the soul the way you can,” he dug into his inventory to pull out his silver flask.

‘They also need a sort of focus, right?’

Gerson nodded in agreement as he uncorked the flask and took a sip. He stared at WingDings as if contemplating something before he extended the drink to WingDings, “if Lady Toriel asks I didn’t give this to ya.” 

“It helps the numbness sometimes.”

Wingdings sniffed the opening pulling his face back quickly, it had a rather pungent odor laced with a dripping sweetness. He sloshed the liquid from side to side listening to it splash against itself before he tilted it back past his teeth.

He nearly gagged at first but he finished down the swallow he had taken, he held the flask back towards Gerson as he flexed his jaw. His magic bristled along his marrow singing an illusion of warmth as his thoughts clouded over and jumbled together. His eye lights brightened, Gerson went to take the flask back before Wingdings quickly tilted it back one more time, “careful boy that stuff’ll make you grow hair,” he chuckled taking it back before the skeleton could take anymore. Wingdings puffed a hot breath enjoying the offensive smell against his nasal cavity. 

‘Impossible, hair grows out starting at the base of the skin, I have none, thus I am immune,’ he straightened up to his full height. The corner of his mouth twitched, ‘so nothing can get under my skin,’ he chuckled lightly, ‘think Toriel would like that one?’

Gerson looked at the flask, “yeah we’re not telling her about this,” he took a drink of his own before slipping it into his inventory.

‘What is that stuff?’ Wingdings brows knit together as he looked down to the turtle.

“It’s called Fairy Fizz, doesn’t do much to humans except taste bad but monsters, well, it absorbs into their magic nice and quick,” Gerson bobbed his head.

“Fairy Fizz,” Wingdings tried the words out against his teeth. ‘I think I like F-A-I-R-Y F-I-Z-Z,’ he folded his arms affirming it to himself.

Gerson had expected the kid to sniff it and return it to him, at most take a sip, but he’d had downed half the flask in two swallows.

Wingdings paused near the edge of the forest causing Gerson to need to backtrack to find him. “What’s up now kiddo?” Gerson searched the treeline, the walking bonfire not too far out was rather easy to spot. “Come on,” he slapped Wingdings in the vertebrae but received a vigorous shaking of the head. 

It took a while before WingDings finally pulled his hands up in front of him, ‘he’s so tall.’

Gerson raised a brow before erupting into laughter, “boy come on, he’s been lookin’ all over camp for ya.” Wingdings tried to dig his heels into the ground but he hardly weighed enough to resist Gerson’s pushing.

It was foolish, Grillby was his friend, but he just looked so different it was hard to imagine him as the feisty flame he bickered with on a daily basis. As they approached Wingdings pulled away from Gerson’s hand that was still pressing him forward.

Grillby saw them approach and turned around to face them fully. His flames released a puff of smoke as sparks of blue ran through his flame. What did he have to be embarrassed about? Unless he was patronizing him. Wingdings eye socket gave a twitch as he marched up to the flame who took a step back away from the skeleton.

‘Why did I even teach you how to mend your clothes if you weren’t going to do it?’ he held his eye lights into Grillby’s soft white specks.

Grillby pulled back with confusion reading plainly across his flames. Gerson raised a brow mirroring Grilby’s expression but the flame seemed to regain his composure, ‘and look at you small fry, did you eat at all while I was gone?’

Wingdings let out a tut, ‘of course I did, I’m not the one emitting a needless amount of smoke burning off my reserves,’ he gestured vaguely when he was done.

The smoke faded a bit as Grillby focused on it, ‘your eye sockets are far too dark have you slept at all? Or have you just decided you don’t need to do that?’

‘Shut up giant!’ Wingdings folded his arms together his eye lights glancing towards the sea of trees.

Grillby covered where his mouth would be but his flames crackled regardless popping and wrinkling with laughter, “stars I missed you Dings.” Without much warning he knelt down, making him just barely shorter than the skeleton, and crossed his arms behind him to grab the skeleton’s shoulders firmly. 

Wingdings noticeably flinched, tried to pull away from the sudden contact, before he pressed his skull against the side of the flames head, “I missed you too,” he spoke as softly as his font allowed. 

Gerson smiled as he watched the pair, during times like this all one had was their friends and companions. It hurt when they left, stars did it hurt, but it was a glimmer of hope worth holding onto. He pulled his flask back out of his inventory then raised it to the sky before he took a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this originally after the first time I wrote Gerson and Gaster interacting. I just sort of liked the way they played off of each other a lot and wanted to write it before things got rough between them.
> 
> There was a time I thought this was the best thing I'd written but looking back at it, almost a year later (I edited a lot before posting) I can tell I've gotten better so that's pretty cool!
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to leave requests in the comments below or on my Tumblr


	3. How Can You Love Nothing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was requested by LapisDragon01 over on tumblr: Could I possibly request some Grillster angst? Maybe something to do with Gaster having a panic attack over something or another, and Grillby being there to help calm him down?

Gaster looped the violet tie around the collar of his charcoal gray button down before his fingers deftly tied a trinity knot at the neck. A quick adjustment and it was good to go. He grabbed the black blazer off of his bed frame then tugged it over his shoulders as he strolled down the hall, “sorry to keep you waiting-”

A smile tugged at the corner of his teeth, Papyrus had just ran out of his pad of sticky notes successfully finishing the paper mosaic that took up the corner of the living room. “Sans! Do you know how many sticky notes I had?”

“One apparently,” Sans shrugged.

“No! When I told you to pick up the note the first time!” Sans did his best to look genuinely confused as he pondered over how he wanted to answer the question. Grillby sat on the couch watching their display his flames flickering with the same amusement Gaster felt. It was nice how familiar, how right this felt. He always felt he stepped in just a moment too late but that’s because he loved the way the two teased each other with bickering caused by their conflicting personalities.

“Must be ninety eight cause I’ve got two left,” Sans displayed his pink pad of notes.

“Wait- when didn’t you respond?” He looked over their bantering artwork that now greatly outweighed the harm of a single sock. “Sans! There were one hundred notes! One hundred times I have told you to pick up your sock and here, and here, and here,” each point to a note grew more dramatic as he smacked the wall with his finger more vigorously several fluttered off of the wall, “you agreed to move it!”

“Nah I think it was only ninety eight times,” Sans smiled.

“Must I count them for you? There are one hundred! One, two-”

Gaster chuckled alright time to-

“Okay boneheads knock it off,” Grillby chuckled rising from the couch. “Papyrus you have to know by now this is just a game.”

Gaster blinked, that was his line he should have called it off.

“Well yes,” he admitted, “but I plan on winning it!”

“Do you-” Gaster started but his voice came out so soft he barely recognized it.

“You really think you can out wait him?” Grillby hitched his thumb to Sans who acted wounded, “he’s the King of that game.”

“But I must teach him responsibility!”

“Eh, don’t think that’s in my curriculum.”

“Stay out of this! This is  _ only about  _ you it is not for you to commentate!”

“Kay.”

A solution- he could still come up with a solution to solve this and make it better.

“Look, why don’t we have him help fold laundry or something? We can take down the sticky notes and move the sock to the basket then he can fold it,” Grillby supplied.

“I suppose, that is essentially the same thing,” Papyrus’s jaw set to the side as he thought. “Alright, I agree to this arrangement! Come on Sans there is laundry to do!”

Sans sighed as he was hoisted off the ground by his brother.

Gaster’s eyelight flit about the room waiting to meet some corner of mismatched indistinct darkness that told him he was still in the void. Why was he so far from them? There wasn’t a screen he was here. He was just a few feet from them but-

“Oh hey Dad,” Sans smirked from under his brother’s arm, “we ready to go now or-”

“I forgot something in my room,” he clenched his fists then turned down the hall. Just a few minutes. He just needed to relax a little then he could pretend everything was fine. Everything was fine- for a moment he feared his hand had just phased through the handle but no, he just slipped. He threw the door open then tugged it firmly behind him.

Gaster flopped onto his bed and let out a sigh by far more exhausted than he felt he deserved to be. He was always thankful Grillby remained close with the boys after he fell, always appreciative of how close they were...but, he hadn’t realized that before he came back Grillby had filled his role as their father hadn’t he?

His fingers clawed at the sides of his skull as he bit back the thoughts, forced them back into the shadows until he was left numb, until everything faded from him. The thoughts went still until the ocean of his mind became a lake, fathomless, deep, and still. It didn’t stop the way his magic pricked into his sockets, the tightness in his soul, but the thoughts were gone. He was alone in his pitch dark room with black furnishings just a few minutes and it would all be behind him.

Before he knocked so softly it barely made noise, before he mustered up the nerve to speak, Gaster could see the flickering orange pervading his dark cocoon, “hey Gaster you good? We need to go.”

Gaster had to fight to find the voice he was fairly certain he had stolen from some other version of himself that had met the same fate, “just go without me.”

Grillby paused, his hand pressed softly to the door, “are you okay?” His tone was completely different then it had first been, softer but with more of a crackle to it as he spoke to the monster he loved.

‘I’m fine,’ he signed curled up on the bed as the thoughts began their stalking of him once more. What was he supposed to say? I’m mad the boys have memories with you? I’m mad that I can’t ever have what I had with them again? I’m mad they have to spend every hour of the day entertaining him with the idea that they were a family? But he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t. He didn’t feel angry he didn’t want to feel anything.

“Gaster?” The doorknob clicked as Grillby turned it but a hand bullet held the door shut. “Hey,” worry edged into his voice, “let me in Gaster.”

“Please I’ll sort this out, go with my-” his voice broke, “with your boys to the movie, I’m fine.”

The push on the door lightened but the flame outside brightened, “ _ my _ boys?”

He clenched his teeth, “yeah,” his head bounced a few times as he came to terms with the thought, “yeah. They- they care about you a lot you know. Sans has told me how you took care of him, how you listened, when he felt absolutely raving mad after dealing with not one but two temporal manipulating anomalies.”

“Papyrus said you always respected his brother’s limit and always called him if something was particularly bothersome so he could know, so he could worry less. They told me about the first Gyftmas they ever celebrated with your tiny little flamling. How they always knew they could go to you.”

Tears more than stung at his sockets as they attempted to make a pitch mess of his face but he kept it out of his voice. He forced himself to sit with his feet over the edge of the bed,“I wasn’t there for them and what’s worse- I was  _ never _ there for them!” Gaster wrapped his hands around his humeruses, his breathing fluttered in his ribcage like a trapped owl desperate to see the night sky again.

The door pushed open gently, it didn’t even squeak on its’ hinges, as Grillby stepped into the room. Gaster’s eyelight flicked up to him with recognition before it fell to his hands, “I wasn’t there Grillby. I wasn’t there when they saw the Waterfalls for the first time, I wasn’t there when they went to school a fluttering mess of nerves, I never burnt their eggs in the morning, I never told them my secrets and they never shared theirs”

“And yet now they feel like they have to pretend I’m someone to them because-” he gestured vaguely, “because I said so? Because of some stupid photo that should have been discarded ages ago? Because of some lingering sense that someone else might have been there so it might as well be me?”

Grillby sat on his knees in front of the skeleton his white fleck like eyes gazing softly behind his lenses up into Gaster’s eyes. His soft flickering fingers wrapped around Gaster’s, “they are your boys. They are your sons.” His eyes had nothing but sincerity even if his facts were inaccurate. 

“Were,” he could never stand for misinformation.

“Are.”

His teeth quivered as he tried to find a ground to stand on but with the flame staring up at him so steadfast, so unwavering, he kept slipping on his miserable little island. He placed his skull wearily against Grillby’s shoulder then buried his sockets against the monster’s collar, “I hate this!”

The flame wrapped his arms around the skeleton’s meager shoulders burning a pleasant warmth into the freezing frame he held. “Tell me about it,” it wasn’t a command, barely even a statement, it was a warm pillow after a long day, it was the rising sun after a freezing night. There wasn’t going to be any judgement from the monster who loved him.

“I hate how much I feel about you, how much my soul hurts whenever I can’t say I-” he pulled away just enough to see the monster’s eyes.

“I don’t mind. I know you’ll get there,” a soft smile glew across his face.

“I- I have books in my drawers for each of my friends,” he was venting now as if confessing his sins to a priest, “the monsters I’ve known my whole life, where I have to write what I’m allowed to know. I hate every secret I have to write down. I hate every joke, every smile, every misplaced line that’s been as lost in the void as much as I was.”

“It’s alright, we all know that you know some things-”

“I know what you looked like after Ashfall.”

Immediately Grillby’s flames deflated laying low against the back of his neck, “oh.”

“That expression, everyone has it, that’s why I have the books full of so many secrets no one wants to share,” he pulled away from Grillby to cradle his skull in his hands, “I try Grillby. I try to pretend it’s okay that you don’t know why the core is named the way it is. I try not to impose on the boys but it feels like I missed a few weeks not their entire life! ”

“Gaster,” Grillby stated firmly pulling him away from his thoughts. It was calm, careful, quiet, the way he reached up to place his hand against the monster’s cheekbone as if asking for permission first, “it is terrible.”

Th-that wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I hate when you suffer knowing there was a time I could have prevented it. I hate the way your eye points to the ground when a joke we used to share lands flat and you feel you have pretend it doesn’t bother you.” Grillby pressed his forehead against Gaster’s, “I hate that you have to keep books of secrets for our sake.”

“Everything about the void was terrible,” this close Gaster could smell Grillby’s smokey scent escape him as he spoke, “but  you are so strong Gaster.” At that Gaster broke, his ribs stuttered as he cupped his mouth and pulled away fat tears pouring down his cheekbones.

“If I was in your position I would have given up immediately, moved on to my next life, but you try so hard Gaster because there is so much love in your soul and I know it hurts. I know you wish you could shove it away but you don’t.”

“Do you know how amazing you are?”

Gaster wrapped his arms around Grillby and put all of his minimal weight in his arms eager to wrap himself in the monster’s light. Grillby’s hand rested against the back of his skull, “when it’s terrible. When you can’t bare it because you feel like you should be little more than a shadow tell me. I’ll be your light.”

He hiccuped as he inhaled for air, “and you say you’re bad with words.”

They sat on the floor a mess of limbs clad in black until Gaster’s ribs grew still, until the tears stopped falling from his sockets, until they shared a soft kiss of gratitude. “Why don’t we stay in, pop a bag of popcorn, and watch a movie, just the four of us,” Grillby suggested.

Gaster smiled broadly feeling lighter than he had in weeks, “I think that sounds fantastic.” He chuckled pulling slightly away from Grillby to face the door, “what do you two think?”

The sound of bones clicking together as a pair of skeletons flinched surprised to have been caught for their eavesdropping. “Sounds good to me,” Sans yawned, “easier to nap on the couch then in the bed of a truck anyways.”

“Like you have any difficulty doing that!” Papyrus huffed. He stood in the doorway his fingers wrapped around the edge of his sleeve as he fidgeted with it, “are you okay?”

Gaster looked over to Grillby, “no,” he smiled up to Papyrus, “but I will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed! I enjoyed writing this one quite a bit though I appear to have a bit of guilt when it comes to Gaster and the void... haha ^^’ Thanks for the request and thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> If you have any requests feel free to leave them in the comments below or on my Tumblr


	4. In the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one comes from Anchestor over on Tumblr: Undertale writing requests are open? How about Gaster showing his baby bones to Asgore for the first time? If you'd like ^^

Gaster paced along the edge of the throne room mindful of the golden flowers whose brilliant heads chose a not too smart place to rest. Pacing was a gesture Gaster was familiar with, something he was known for. The soothing sounds of his feet clicking against the purple tiles wasn’t for his sake this time.

Swaddled inside of a sling were two babybones just barely old enough to keep themselves together while they were asleep- that discovery had been an unexpected strain to his soul. His species wasn’t exactly the most documented, or what documents that did exist were exclusive to the monsters of the species who had been pronounced all but extinct by the kingdom. 

It was supposed to be a simple experiment: is there a process for creating monsters without the need of a partner? The answer was yes. Their populations dwindling numbers as well as the near extinction of several species officially had a cure and these two were the proof. His eyelight rounded as the thinner of the two yawned in their sleep.

However, there were ramifications to this proof. Now there were two newborn monsters desperate for love and acceptance in this world entrapped by stone. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Asgore’s voice boomed from the far end of the room. Gaster pulled his finger over his teeth in a librarian hush. The King’s shoulders pulled up towards his ears as a bashful smile tickled across his muzzle. “You did bring them!” Orange sparked into his brown eyes as he excitedly made his way across the yellow field.

‘As requested,’ his hand bullets signed while his real hands stayed firm in their support of the pair.

Asgore gently pulled the blanket away from each of the little ones faces taking proper time to fawn over each of them. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, his ears fell slack, and his eyes sparkled with magic as he ran his finger along the side of the bigger child’s skull, “they are so tiny.”

‘Babies tend to be,’ Gaster signed flatly.

“And how are you doing?” Asgore’s eyes peered up into Gaster’s weary sockets.

‘As expected.’ 

Truthfully, he was utterly exhausted. It two weeks to adjust to the children’s rattle based communications, decipher a feeding schedule, a nap schedule, overall he felt he had been quite sufficient. Maintaining this schedule while also working on side projects and taking all of the measurements he needed from them proved to be much more difficult.

He chuckled, “that’s not quite an answer.”

Gaster’s eyelights pointed away, ‘it’s what I have.’

“What are their names?” Asgore clasped his paws together in his excitement.

‘This one is Potato,’ he pointed to the larger boned child with the fused jaw, ‘and that is String bean,’ the more active of the children’s sockets opened lightly.

There was a befuddled silence as the King of monsters took a moment to gather his thoughts, “potato and string bean?”

His skull flushed with violet magic, ‘font magic takes time to develop but labeling them Child A and B felt too cold so,’ he shrugged. It was obvious 

Asgore was still stuttering over the names internally as he stared between the pair. ‘Why don’t we move on?’

“Oh yes, of course.”

They moved into one of the old bedrooms inside of the King’s dwellings to place the pair onto a plush bed. Gaster explained their ambulatory and magical development. Went into detail on individual traits between the pair before he once more brought up Potato’s lack of statistical development. It was all very straight forward and professional until Sting bean gripped one of Gaster’s wiggling fingers.

He froze, his eye light hummed a soft light as everything faded from his mind. The small child rattled his demand for affection, always the needier of the pair. Gaster sat on the edge of the bed then lifted the child into his arms. In a careful bouncing motion he rocked the child until they stopped fussing and rooted their tiny fingers around one of the buttons on his coat.

“May I?” Asgore gestured to Potato who had still yet to wake up despite how often he had been moved.

‘Of course.’

Before he even moved to the child a huge smile blossomed across his features in anticipation. His clumsy paws worked as deftly as they could to scoop up the snoozing child, “stars I think a rose is lighter than this!” He whispered.

Gaster smiled up to Asgore then down to the child in his own arms. There was a strange flutter in his soul somewhere between a warm breeze in autumn and the descent of a feather. It tickled in his ribcage as his soul attempted to accommodate the foreign sensation. He traced the edge of String beans skull with his thumb, so small, so new.

“My offer still stands Gaster,” Asgore hummed, “I would be happy to have them.”

Yes, he was aware Asgore would probably be a better parent for the twins than he could ever hope to be. Conducting the experiment he’d been so wrapped up in the ‘can I do this’ he never paused to think if he  _ should _ . He really wasn’t a suitable parent with the way his work schedule was, the way he forgot to feed himself, forgot to sleep, and he hadn’t seen his own home in weeks.

String bean looked up to him and rattled happily content in his arms. There wasn’t any judgement in the tiny sockets just a soft reassurance, ‘I don’t think anyone knows how to be a parent at first. I just- I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I left them to you.’

“That’s a good answer Gaster, you might just be a dad yet.”

‘I’m going to need help though,’ he admitted, ‘I- I have never loved anything Asgore,’ his eyelight was small as his shoulders drooped, String bean fussed in his arms.

“And you will have all the help I can provide,” he smiled down to Potato who finally was awake enough for the darkness of his sockets to be seen. “And you need not worry about learning to love them Gaster.” His regal eyes returned to Gaster and with a tinge of some emotion Gaster couldn’t name shining in his he eyes spoke softly, “you already do.”

He returned Potato to Gaster’s arms to lay alongside String bean, “but we really must come up with better names however temporary they may be.” Gaster did his best not to disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually tried to write something very similar as a 'Lab Accidents' story but it turned from "Gaster and Two SkeleChildren" into "Gaster deals with his abandonment issues" which is why that one isn't finished.
> 
> I'm glad this didn't turn into that. It's not exactly warm fuzzy Dad feels like I feel was intended but it takes Gaster a while to get that way. I had debated on writing a softer Gaster but it all felt like stuff I had read before.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a suggestion below or on my Tumblr


	5. Buds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argentdandelion of Tumblr requested: Here's an Undertale writing request: During one of Flowey's many runs, Papyrus goes through a lot of trouble to teach Flowey how to hug people as a flower.

“I just can’t connect to anyone,” Flowey bemoaned his head falling heavy on his stem.

“Of course you can! You connected with me,” Papyrus stated proudly.

Flowey scoffed, as if it had been difficult. The monster before him swooned at the slightest praise and was exceptionally eager for something as stupid as friendship. What was the point in that? Friends just hurt you in the end. That’s all they were for. But no, he talked like the stupid fish did about camaraderie. His head thumped against the ground, “it must be so easy for you.”

Papyrus thought about this for a moment, “well, yes,” his ‘unwavering’ confidence fell in his voice a bit empty, “it is hard not to love a cuddly skeleton!” There it was. That bounce. That gusto. That mask that slipped on so effortlessly. Still, Flowey’s beady black eyes pointed towards him. There was something about Papyrus that was just- off. Something that went against the structure of the world around them.

“But people love flowers too! And I am sure with proper coaching I shall be more than capable of procuring for you an army of friends.”

He did his best impression of a snort, “an army huh?”

“Yes! Now we must think very hard on what a skeleton has that a flower lacks,” Papyrus scratched at the base of his chin with his first finger.

There were several things: bones were the easiest one, kindness, a penchant for jokes and japes, (if the brothers were a good example) but of course the most important was their possession of a soul. Like every other monster, “golly Papyrus I can’t think of anything!”

“Comfort!”

“C-comfort?” His voice dropped from the innocent facade he typically carried as he was caught off guard.

“Yes! Now you have proven to not be the best at comforting words,” his sockets sparked, “not that you are not good at it! Just not the best!”

“Uh-huh.” How many times had he lured monsters in using the teasing lies of comfort? Even now just entertaining this idiot could be seen as a backwards type of consulence. The Great Papyrus was hardly the hero he thought he was.

Without much of a warning Papyrus crouched down as close to Flowey’s level as the lanky skeleton could get, “what are you-” As carefully as the oaf could manage he cupped the back of Flowey’s petals in a soft embrace.

“It’s a hug!” Papyrus smiled, “I would hug your stem but it is far too small!” Softly to the side he added, “It isn’t like you could make it grow or anything.”

“Wait did you just-”

“Now your turn friend flowey,” he stretched out his arms, a gesture that had been the death of him more times than was worth counting. Typically some impression lingered between his resets, especially if he did the same thing multiple times, but never was there any hesitation in this single stupid, weak, gesture. Just seeing the pathetic display was enough to remind him of the sensation of dust falling from his petals.

“Like you said I am too small to hug you Papyrus,” that’s right. This run he hadn’t done much of anything, just hung out with this buffoon biding his time until he came up with a better idea. Papyrus couldn’t possibly know about his roots.

“Right,” the puzzle master looked puzzled as he gazed around Waterfall’s caverns, “oh! There!” He pointed to a ledge that came up to the old red scarf he always wore when they ventured outside of Snowdin. “Go up there Flowey! It will be the perfect level to practice a hug.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” There it was. That emptiness. All consuming and sickening resting like a fathomless pit across his form. If he hugged the oaf he’d get a good job and a head pat. The monster would boast about teaching a flower to hug- but there wasn’t any joy in this for him. Wasn’t any story worth carrying over to the next reset. He was officially bored with this toy, oh well.

He burrowed underground then resurfaced atop the ledge Papyrus had pointed out, “gee I sure feel tall!” He giggled.

“Sometimes it helps to get a new perspective when trying new or difficult things,” Papyrus stated, oddly sage like.

“I still don’t have arms though,” his roots burrowed deeper in the ground digging through the stone as if it was recently tilled soil.    
  
“You don’t need arms,” Papyrus grinned unabashedly, “you’re a good friend Flowey! You just need to find the proper way to share it with others, then the Flowey fan club will have lots of members!”

Flowey’s beady black eyes narrowed, Papyrus had no idea who he was talking to. With little more than the cracking of earth to give away his intentions vines coiled fiercely around the skeleton. He laughed, Papyrus didn’t even try to fight back, he wasn’t even squirming. His sockets peered into Flowey’s eyes with a look of tired disappointment. “Please don’t do this again,” Papyrus sighed.

Flowey’s petals stiffened before he drew his face close to Papyrus’s, again? Again? Smiley trashbag was the only one that had any idea of what he was up to. The dunce in front of him couldn’t even remember to keep his arms down when someone was about ready to murder him. There was no way he heard that right, his mouth grew wicked in shape as he practically hissed in Papyrus’s face, “what did you say?”

A hiccup of fear creeped into his voice, the right response, the proper response when one was about to be undone, “Please don’t do this friend.”

He did hear wrong then. Good. “Why? Because I can do better? Because you believe in me?” His head tilted precariously to the side of his stem.

“Yes,” his resolve burned with something akin to determination, “I believe you can do better Flowey, I  _ know  _ goodness is in you.”

This speal. He’d heard it all before, it never stopped the way the dust fell through his vines, never stopped the tired look he got from Sans afterwords, never stopped the empty feeling inside of him, it never- Slowly the roots retracted from his pray as the mood for carnage left him.

His head bent heavy on his stem as he leaned against the top of Papyrus’s sternum. There wasn’t any point to any of this. “You did it,” Papyrus smiled pleasantly, “a flower sized hug! I’m proud of you!”

Flowey laughed, what else was there to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the end results. I feel bad it’s so short but I feel like I got what I wanted to across. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Macaroni, Magic, and Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve-bel of Tumblr requested: ...Anyway, Grillby and Gaster somehow end up babysitting Frisk? Or just little moments with them?

“Oh and if-”

‘Toriel,’ Gaster signed firmly which finally caused the mile a minute torrent of words from the boss monster to cease, ‘everything will be fine.’

“Go have fun you’ve earned it,” Grillby fizzed as he crossed his arms.

She sighed, “I know I am being ridiculous but-” her voice trailed off, “no I am just being silly you both are excellent fathers I’m sure there won’t be any problems at all.”

Gaster chuckled, ‘not so sure I’d go that far.’

“Alright,” her paw roughed up Frisk’s hair before she smoothed it out with a practiced ease, “be good Frisk I’ll be home soon.”

Frisk held their hand up with the first and pinkie fingers pointing towards the ceiling and their thumb out to the side, ‘I love you.’ Toriel mirrored the gesture before she finally shut the door behind her.

Grillby leaned over to the kitchen to view the clock on the oven, “only eight minutes late.”

‘Alright squirt,’ Gaster signed his sockets fell to a glare as his posture grew cold and harsh.

Frisk stared defiantly up to the near giant of a skeleton matching his gaze as best as their squinty eyes could. The two held the stance as long as they could before Frisk began to smirk, then smile, before a giggle escaped from behind their tiny hands. 

Grillby looked between the two a bit unsure of the exchange, “I’m going to start on dinner why don’t you two-”

‘Help!’ Frisk cupped the side of their fist in their right hand as they raised it towards their face enthusiastically. 

His flames brightened as he considered this, “as much as I trust you in the kitchen I need you to keep him entertained,” he hitched his thumb up to Gaster.

‘Excuse you,’ Gaster scoffed.

‘Help!’ Frisk insisted.

“Alright, you win,” Grillby sighed, “but if you end up with charcoal it’s his fault.”

Frisk was quick to unload the groceries Grillby had brought but they turned their nose up at the cauliflower. “I promise you won’t even taste it.” Their small hands grabbed the noodles, the block of cheese, and a carrot then plopped them into a pot. “There’s a few more steps then that,” Grillby chuckled.

He handed Gaster the vegetables and cheese, Gaster was lousy at cooking but his knife work was almost on par with his own, almost. After a bit of debate he pulled up one of the kitchen chairs for Frisk to stand on. They filled one pot with water and he allowed the tiny child to add in just a bit of salt to the water before he helped them jostle the bag until it was empty. The pot was then put on a far off burner while he got to work on the sauce.

‘What is it?’ Frisk finally asked. Grillby had been waiting for them to do so but the child seemed focused on putting the puzzle together themselves.

“It’s a homemade mac and cheese, the vegetables are there because they are good for you,” he nudged them playfully.

“How are you coming on those by the way?” Grillby hummed over to the other side of the room.

Gaster gave him a look that couldn’t have been anything other than ‘seriously’, ‘I’m over here. I couldn’t possibly mess up your precious dish.’

“I do need those veggies now,” he smirked. Gaster rolled his eyes light as he carried the cutting board decorated with varying shades of vegetables across the room along with a seran wrap pouch filled with cheese. The veggies were added into the noodles while the cheese was added into the sauce. Frisk ate the remaining cheese out of the seran wrap while Grillby stirred the sauce until it was nice and thick.

Eventually a pair of magic hands drained the noodles in the sink before adding them into the sauce. From there the mixture was poured into a casserole dish that Frisk happily put the lid on before Grillby slipped it into the oven. The timer was set for fifteen minutes thus finishing the prep work.

Grillby went into the living room to find a board game they could play while they waited. Gaster and Frisk got to work on the few dishes they had dirtied, though, it quickly turned into Gaster supervising after the knives had been washed. He watched with mild amusement as the child leaned their pits against the edge of the sink to lean in deep to grab the straggling measuring cups below.

Gaster reached to assist but the child pushed their hand out of the way, ‘okay,’ he signed flatly. The little tike was more than capable and he didn’t doubt that Toriel kept them plenty busy with tasks such as this. He stood back just a little as he began to imagine how small Papyrus had once been yet so set on helping with any task he could.

A smile teased across his features as he became entrapped with fond memories of the boys around the old house in the Capital. Their little arguments over mundane things, their comfort of each other afterwards, playing with magic in doors after being told they shouldn’t, trying their best to pull pranks over on him, sometimes successfully. He could feel his magic thrum warmth into the air as his warm fuzzies grew plain to see across him. It all felt so long ago.

He flinched as white came into his vision accompanied by small pops of sounds. Bubbles. Frisk giggled in amusement their hands still poised like a launch pad after having blown the cluster at him. ‘Very funny,’ he signed while a single hand bullet dipped into the sink behind the child, ‘I hope you’re proud of yourself.’ He wiped the suds away from the crack along the top of his skull as the child found their hair slathered with bubbles.

“Hey!” Their voice was soft from lack of use but offered a quiet sign of faith. Not everyone was granted the distinct pleasure of hearing the child’s voice and Gaster was more than happy to count himself amongst the few.

‘And what are you going to do about it?’ He asked coyly.

Frisk narrowed their eyes directly in Gaster’s sockets which turned to a glare in response. From there, well, things got a little messy. By the time Grillby walked in with a small card box the sink was just about empty the floor on the other hand was a slippery mess. 

The flame took an overly cautious step to the other side of the kitchen table, “Gaster what on earth are you doing?”

Gaster shook the water off of his hands a stray bubble floated into the air from the palm of his hand. He looked at his hand curiously while Frisk eagerly poked the bubble as it floated up. “Why don’t you clean this up,” he eyed Gaster, “while me and Frisk play a game?”

‘What if I want to play?’ Gaster teased.

“It’s not fun to play this game with you,” Grillby darkened just barely enough to be noticeable.

‘What is it?’

“Memory,” he crackled.

Tch, he tsked, ‘you’re just a sore loser but fine.’ Gaster grabbed a few of the hanging hand towels to absorb the mess their impromptu water fight had caused.

Grillby dealt the memory cards across the table with the skill of a master card dealer. He wasn’t much for gambling but just stepping into one of the dog guards card games for fun never hurt anyone. Frisk applauded as the last card flicked into place closest to them and Grillby bowed his face a more vibrant yellow as he stoked himself warmer.

Memory was always a fun game to play with younger kids. They’d start off grabbing cards in full earnest without fear before growing more cautious as their picks never seemed to give them any rewards. Frisk wasn’t any different as they attempted to decipher the way Grillby’s flames moved as hints to where the match was. This game wasn’t just about teaching kids object permanence it also taught them how to read others.

Grillby’s flames popped in an attempt to cover up a laugh as Frisk cautiously lifted the corner of the card before poking it back down as if they hadn’t just seen it wasn’t the ladybug they were looking for. When Fuku was little she would do something similar just cautiously lifting the corner of the cards. He let her get away with it, just as he was letting Frisk now, but if her cheating didn’t warrant her any results the corners of the cards would start to singe from her distaste. It wouldn’t take long before he had to pick the game up or risk having to redraw all of the cards.

Luckily, Frisk didn’t run the same risk and as they peeked under their second cheating attempt they drew the ladybugs into their hands. The game was fairly quick but just barely longer than what was left on the timer. A grating buzz sang a tone deaf note until Gaster distastefully shut it off to retrieve the casserole dish with a set of phantom hands. 

“Lightning round?” Grillby asked.

Frisk nodded their hands already hovering over a matching set. Grillby made a display of reaching for cards just a few seconds after Frisk slammed their hands down over them before the last set was drawn up. “You’re pretty good at this kid,” Grillby grinned receiving an excited spark of a smile from Frisk.

‘No wonder you don’t want to play against me if you lose to a child,’ Gaster sneered as he set the table.

‘Ha ha,’ Grillby signed back returning the cards to the box.

‘Lightning round!’ Frisk cheered.

Grillby and Gaster exchanged a look of puzzlement before it clicked, “no, he cheats,” Grillby pointed defensively.

Gaster grinned a lopsided skeletal grin that teased a playfulness the monster rarely utilized in front of others, ‘now, now, let's not make false accusations.’ He wiggled the card pack out of Grillby’s hands then laid them down carefully. 

‘Frisk, would you set a stopwatch?’ Gaster’s eyes burned into Grillby’s flecks as Frisk pulled a stopwatch out of one of the drawers.

“On your mark Frisk,” Grillby’s eyes drifted from Gaster’s for just a second before they turned back onto the cards.

Frisk stared between them tight lipped positively giddy off of the amount of magic sitting half formed in the air before they dramatically slammed their thumb against the button. What happened next was so swift that the brilliant flutters of light could have been mistaken as a trick of the lighting but Frisk was very familiar with magic.

Gaster summoned a hand bullet over every card, sticking to the rules though the spectral hands only turned two cards over at a time. It spoke highly of his ability to process information though with the cards turning and flipping back so quickly. Grillby was on the defensive summoning tiny fire bullets that worked like land mines shattering the enemy bullets whenever they came near while his hands fought feverishly to slide in under Gaster’s.

When Grillby claimed the last set Frisk hit the stopwatch proud to display the twelve seconds on the clock. Both of the adult monsters sunk back in their chairs well out of practice of using magic that dedicated and quickly. They flicked their matching cards down two at a time in perfect unison but Grillby ran out of cards first. In the end Gaster won by two pairs.

Frisk applauded them both but the pair didn’t do much more than smile at the attention. “Cheater,” Grillby cursed.

Gaster just laughed that strange garbled laugh of his before he pulled his hands up to sign, ‘I think it’s dinner time for you Squirt.’

Luckily, Frisk wasn’t the pickiest of eaters and made very little complaint. Gaster watched the pair while he rested his head lazily on his hand. This was a nice image, Grillby and him eating dinner with a child like a little family. His smile curled up on one side, they should do a big meal sometime just him and his boys with Grillby and Fuku talking over the pleasant clatter of dishes. He sighed dreamily while Frisk scrutinized him.

‘Aren’t you going to eat?’

‘Oh,’ he was a bit disappointed to leave his daydream, ‘no I can’t eat food made out of surface ingredients. I’ll eat something when we go back home.’ Frisk didn’t seem too fond of that answer as they obstinately shoveled a forkful of macaroni into their mouth. 

“Well Frisk is it good?” They nodded enthusiastically, “better than Toriel?” Their expression puckered with thought before they shook their head no. “Darn,” Grillby bemoaned, “one of these times just wait and see, I will get a yes.” Frisk shook their head no again.

The rest of dinner played out with the occasional bit of conversation before the dishes were turned to the sink, this time Grillby supervised as they were washed. A few board games were played at the level intended for children before a movie was popped into the player.

Frisk gave little attention to the stained glass opening or even the first encounter with the movies conflicted protagonist but as more of the enchanted characters began to appear they cuddled up between Grillby and Gaster. At first they had their head against Gaster’s chest but they kept moving it unsatisfied with their position.

Gaster coaxed the child’s head onto the bend between Grillby’s chest and shoulder.

Grillby softened his glow as the child nuzzled up against him. Their features relaxed until they grew slack against him perfectly and soundly asleep. He gently brushed a few stray hairs away from their eyes his own growing softer, less distinguished, behind his lenses. Stars, he forgot what this felt like. 

His soul felt light, weightless even, as he stared down at the prone form against him. Lost in the haze of the sensation he barely caught Gaster’s white hands moving for his attention. Grillby looked between his own hands to sign but where Frisk was tucked any movement could jostle them awake. Luckily, his voice was very quiet, “what was that?”

‘Do you ever think about having a kid again?’

A few sparks floated lazily from his form as the only note of his surprise, “I can’t have-”

‘Let's say it was possible or some tiny child waltzed into our life and said ‘adopt me’, would you want that?’

Grillby looked to Frisk again and was reminded of his tiny green flame. She was so small at first, much smaller than this, he had to admit he looked onto those days fondly. Being needed, relied on, it had always been a weakness of his that something like a child could easily twist. 

In life he was content and capable of the time, money, and effort of another child. 

He glanced briefly at his partner considering his boys as well they already had a larger family then he’d ever imagined. Grillby’s flames hummed and wavered with thought, “I really don’t know, what about you?”

He shrugged, ‘kind of?’ His shoulders dropped, ‘I don’t think it’s for the right reasons though.’ Grillby gave him a cautious glance to encourage him to go on but Gaster hesitated, ‘just-‘ he ran his hand across the top of his skull, ‘I adopted the boys when they were older and I disappeared a few years after that so, I guess, I just feel like I missed a lot.’ He leaned against the back of the couch, ‘if a little kid held up a sign that said adopt me I probably would. I miss feeling like a dad.’

Without much thought Gaster picked a fuzz off of the end of Frisk’s sweater, ‘but I think I’m happy playing uncle to this little tyke too.’

Grillby pulled Frisk gently into a one armed hug, “Yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where I don’t think is the best written thing I’ve done (looking at you cooking scene) I really enjoyed keep this piece light and fluffy! I hope you liked the end results!


	7. Of Bones and Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another lovely request from LapisDragon01:If you don't mind multiple requests from one person, could I request an instance where Gaster is hurt and Grillby tries to help him? The reverse would be totally okay as well!
> 
> I’m going to go ahead and do both since this will empty out the inbox.

The world around him was stiff, moderately scratchy, and smelled horrendously sterile. It was the type of clean that belonged to only the strictest of housekeepers or a doctor’s office. The likelihood of one was much higher than the other. 

Carefully, he felt around for binds relieved when he found he could move his hands up and down and his feet freely. This also meant he hadn’t had an embarrassing panic attack in front of strangers; which was a relief to his ego. None of this changed the fact he had no idea why he was here but at least it felt like all of his bones were accounted for.

He peeled open his sockets surprised, but not at all, to see a rather sickly gray and red flame half asleep in a chair next to him. 

His eyelights flicked on, though, his vision was still blurry, at the pale green walls of the closest thing their box of science had to a health division.Actually, they should work on that, with the Core nearly complete exploring health sciences outside of green magic could be more than beneficial. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very well acquainted with healers in the Underground let alone ones that believed there was more than magic to remedy wounds. How would he go about finding them? Perhaps Asgore could put out an official request.

“Awake for a few seconds and already your eyelights are spinning,” Gaster flinched at how prominent the pops and crackles were over the whisper like tone. “You’d better be thinking about never doing this again.” Grillby lifted his glasses to rub his fingers against the sides of his face while he attempted to stoke his natural oranges back into his form.

Gaster tried to lift his hands to sign but he was suddenly aware of a heavy sensation like lead that settled over his bones. He leaned his head over towards Grillby utterly frustrated that he couldn’t just open his mouth to give him reassurance. A pair of hand bullets floated in the air above his chest they flickered, as if they hesitated to exist, but they were strong enough to respond to his thoughts. ‘Are you alright?’

“Am I-” Grillby laughed, not his usual hearth laugh, not even his boisterous campfire laugh, but a series of pops and crackles more akin to the sputtering of a flame too close to the wax below it than the wildfire he was. The pale grays twisted through his flames and pressed themselves into darker shades, “You’re the one that’s been unconscious for two days and you are asking if I’m alright?”

‘Yes,’ he signed absolutely. Two days? He tried to figure where the shock from whatever landed him here ended and the almost week of sleep deprivation would have started but he needed more information.

Grillby looked down at his clasped hands, “I can’t believe you sometimes.” He went silent, aside from the natural sounds caused from being made of fire, as he stared intently at his hands, “I’m fine. You just worried me.”

‘Sorry,’ Gaster chuckled a short half laugh, ‘what did I do this time?’

The fleck’s of his eyes disappeared behind his lenses, ‘you don’t remember?’ Gaster shook his head but it looked much more like he gave up keeping his sockets locked on Grillby. 

Grillby’s shoulders dropped, “you were working on something or other when it exploded the room is in ruin-”

‘Are my assistants okay?’ His fingers twitched hurriedly. 

“Yeah, just a few minor singes they were all protected behind the sternum of a rib cage.”

“Good,” Gaster sighed in relief.

“What I’m trying to figure out is why the Royal Scientist wasn’t,” he folded his arms, the red in his flames grew stronger as he glared.

‘Rib cages…’ He trailed off, that was some incredibly impressive fast thinking on his part then. It had been years since he’d used the magic and it was always so stubborn to form. As he concentrated he recalled the strange bird and the oddly humanoid monster were close enough together to have shared but the cat was across the room. ‘I can only summon two at a time,’ he signed, ‘I didn’t have time to--’

Grillby stood sharply to his feet the chair he was in skirted on two of its’ legs surprised to have lost its’ occupant before it dropped to the floor. “So you fully understood the danger of the situation and decided to use a magic that couldn’t spare you? It could have killed you Gaster! And you didn’t even think about that! You could have been dust on that ruined floor and we wouldn’t have been able to tell you apart from the soot!” 

His flames roared to life in a burnt orange that consumed his yellow shades and made his white eyes seem all the hotter, “Is that what you wanted?”

‘Of course not I just--’

“You’re just a skeleton Dings when are you going to accept how fragile you are?” His voice hiccuped as he tried to hold onto the waves of heat that he was emitting.

Dings. It had been a few days since he’d heard his old nickname, a wave of shame washed over him. Why hadn’t he done anything? He summoned another set of hand bullets to set the chair back up before signing for Grillby to sit. “I can’t,” he ran his hands through the flames atop his head.

Gaster sighed, it was rare Grillby got worked up but when he did it was best just to let him burn off steam. ‘It was a crisis situation Grillby, I didn’t have time to think,’ he signed simply, ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit out of practice.’

“You’ve always put a focus on saving your life that’s why--”

‘I couldn’t let them die in my name,’ Gaster interrupted. He was having to defend a decision he’d made subconsciously for an incident he didn’t remember.

Grillby’s fingers twitched with half formed words as his flames leapt about haugitly, “I,” he paused, “I don’t want to lose you.”

‘I’m right here.’

“If you die you don’t get to be rekindled, or reborn, you’re just-” he cupped his face with his hand, “you’re just gone.”

A small hum escaped Gaster as he thought, ‘Another reason why we’d never work.’ Gaster signed before he recognized it but the line caught Grillby’s attention, ‘If you’re this upset with how we are now imagine if we were actually,’ he shrugged as his eyelights rounded, ‘together.’

Grillby grew exceptionally still. With little else to do Gaster laid in the bed his eyes locked onto the flame whose own eyes were stuck in a place that wasn’t quite real. Gaster watched as Grillby slowly settled into his normal orange hues, though, the yellow still seemed to be lost to whatever thought process he was having. “Can I hold your hand?” He finally asked.

That was a rather nostalgic request, ‘If you can find it under there,’ he smirked.

Grillby’s flames twisted with sudden realization, “...you… fine...way...,” he sputtered, “...lots of...” He paused to collect himself as his words began to blur into the Language of Flames which was always written so peculiarly in Gaster’s synthesia. ‘You are alright. Lots of burns that are being as stubborn as you are, several cuts, and your left arm is broken.’

Impulsively Gaster went to roll his left wrist to no avail, now he was curious if the lead like feeling was caused by a multitude of wraps: that wasn’t where his mind should be right now.

With a frustrating amount of willpower he moved his right hand out from under the blankets just far enough that his spindly fingers could reach towards Grillby. 

The flame eagerly held it between his hands before he tapped his forehead to them. “I’m still here,” Gaster’s bullets signed while he spoke. 

Grillby nodded, “I’m sorry,” soot began to fall from his form, “I shouldn’t have got upset I just--” he exhaled a long stream of hot air.

“I’m right here,” he assured him again.

“You’re right here,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grillby is actually called anytime Gaster gets hurt just in case he freaks out in his sleep. Grillby is the only one that can restrain him without making the situation worse. Originally he was happy to have this role but as Gaster gets older he fears more and more he’s going to have to watch the monster turn to dust.


	8. Of Flames and Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the last prompt from LapisDragon01 this time with Grillby being the injured party.

That stupid lighter. Grillby’s eyes traced the hovering bob of movement as Gaster’s enchanted lighter swayed as the hand bullet clutching it wavered under its’ wielder’s thoughts. The second so much as a drop of water hissed against his flames it appeared without fail. He knew every scratch in the silver, every pattern of intricate gold, across the surface and the taste of the enchanted flame was one that took weeks to get out of his mouth. But he never had the heart to tell him how pointless it was. 

His elbows moved to secure him as he sat up slowly, so much of his core was visible it was like waking up in someone else’s body. As he turned his hands over he could tell the pads of his palms were well on their way to recovering, it wouldn’t be long before the tongues of flames began to cover the rest of him. 

Hanging far above his head was an impressive collection of pots and pans cleaned to shine as if they were new. Closer to him was the sink that jutted out of the wall large enough to sit two pots comfortably. His new question: why was he lying on the floor in his own kitchen? Another question quickly leapt to mind as he noticed the coals he was atop of and the small embers licking up at him from them.

Such a waste of good charcoal, did Gaster have any idea how hard that was to come by? A couple of sticks from the tree outside and- his hand grazed over a large disc of wood. He sighed but was content to let the flames on his hands eat away at it. 

By the time the pine was reduced to ash Grillby’s flames coiled tight over his chest and all the way down his arms. He inhaled sharply inflating as far as he could before he let out a long sturdy breath of hot air that encouraged the sparks in his legs to grow brighter. Every inch of his body was stubborn to move, uncertain to stand, but as he curled his fingers around the edge of the sink he was able to force himself into a standing position.

Only now standing as straight as he dared in his kitchen did he realize he’d been entirely undressed. He hardly cared and if it was just him he’d probably stay that way until he could get back to his room but he was uncertain what he was going to face in the bar. 

He pressed one foot stubbornly forward then the next, taking a bit of delight as his movement knocked the lighter off of its’ worried path. Near the door was a hook where he kept a few aprons. When he tugged at the hanging fabric he took the rack down with it, he’d deal with it later.

Once the apron was secured around his waist in the same fashion he’d seen other monsters tie a towel he stepped into the restaurant.

Thank the merciful angel he grabbed the fabric. The entire bunny family was tucked inside his bar sitting on the opposite side of the rather dour looking skeleton. “Oh my,” Sunny the innkeeper gasped her ears standing erect as she covered her blushing expression, “I am so sorry-” Her eyes darted over to Gaster with some sort of quiet plead that Grillby knew was lost on him.

A tiny yellow bun hopped up to him, the fur around their face was dripping wet as their warm brown eyes looked up to Grillby, “Thank you Gillby,” she inhaled as she fought tears, “for saving me.”

“Hey, we take care of our own here in Snowdin, I wasn’t gonna leave you out in a storm like that,” a storm like this sounded more accurate as it wailed against his windows. The child reached their arms out to hug him. Grillby was terrified for a moment he’d have to reject a child’s advances due to how wet her face was, luckily, the mother didn’t seem to interested in their child hugging a more than half naked monster. 

Instead, Grillby sat and talked with all of them until the wind outside lessened enough for them to make a safe trip back to the inn. He offered to walk with them but it was quickly pointed out to him how terrible of an idea that was. The door tugged shut behind them then Grillby pressed all of his weight against the door disgusted by how cool it still felt.

Exhaustion settled grotesquely into his form as the lingering exposed Core stiffened from the cold air the door let in. He could feel his agitation from before returning as he stared in frustration at nothing in particular. The hearthstone that shielded his soul called out to him in a comforting warmth that was far too tempting for his tired mind.

Finally the skeleton slid out of the booth he’d been haunting, ‘are you alright?’

“As long as I’m standing I’m fine,” he shrugged.

‘Good,’ he pulled a set of clothes out of his inventory and set them on the table, ‘I’ll be going then.’

Grillby flickered, “I wish you’d get mad at me.”

Gaster let out a sigh as he approached the door, ‘why? It hasn’t ever done me any good before.’

“You would have done the same thing,” Grillby stepped to the side.

‘Absolutely,’ Gaster agreed.

“But there’s a difference-”

Gaster chuckled quick to interrupt him, ‘Let me guess: ‘it’s different because you’ll come back as long as I find your hearthstone.’ His eyelights slid over Grillby’s exposed form skeptically, ‘A rather difficult thing to do in the snow mind you.’ 

His signs were flippant as he made sure each twitch of his fingers displayed his cold sentiment, ‘but hey you’d still be alive, just not you.’

This happened. A lot. Gaster just didn’t understand that what mattered was staying alive. “It is different, if you were to go out there and freeze you wouldn’t come back.”

‘You won’t either!’ He snarled, ‘you think I like seeing you little more than your core staggering back in frozen clothes?’ His boney finger struck at Grillby’s chest, ‘you might come back but you won’t be the you in front of me ever again. So you keep playing hero and I’ll do everything I can to keep you yourself.’

Grillby scoffed, “you’ve never understood you’re not going to,” he gestured to the door.

He bit something out in his Font before he tugged the door open, Grillby grabbed his arm, “What was that?” 

Gaster pulled his arm away and glared defiantly at him, ‘You. are. an ass.’ 

He pulled back, that was a new one.

‘Every time you get hurt you act like helping you was a crime,’ his features curled into a snarl, ‘sorry if I don’t want my best friend to look at me like a complete stranger. Sorry it’s so cruel of me to try to save my friend.’

Grillby glard into the sockets bearing into him with such— Gaster’s shoulders were tense, his rib cage was trying desperately not to constrict, while his arms locked at the elbow to still a rattle: he wasn’t angry at all. Maybe he was the one that didn’t understand. 

As an Eternal he’d lived several lives; being able to just start over was a part of just being what he was. He recalled a few of his kind that would even start over at the slightest drop of heavy rain. Claiming they were inconvenienced by the stinging pain of water against their core. Eternals weren’t supposed to endure pain or exhaustion but Grillby had endured so much at the skeleton’s insistence. 

The Gaster staring him down now was scared, terrified, he’d been about to lose the monster closest to him even if he wasn’t going to die. It never occurred to him how odd that must be for other monsters who only have one life they have to cling to so fiercely to understand. 

‘I’m sorry I’m so grumpy when I get hurt.’

Gaster scoffed, ‘grumpy?’

Grillby sighed, ‘look can we talk about this after I’ve slept a bit?’

The skeleton considered this his eyes tracing along Grillby’s almost all the way lit form, ‘There’s not much to discuss.’ He shrugged, ‘but if you want to talk I request you wear clothes.’

Grillby crackled, “fair enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I finally got to explain Eternals a little bit.
> 
> I love doing character comparison things so this was fun. They are both the type to think of others first and not really care about what happens to themselves.
> 
> This was actually a relatively tame instance. Typically when Grillby gets hurt he either wallows around asking Gaster over and over to let him go or he explodes into a rage blaming Gaster for every bit of pain he’s endured. Because Eternal’s are naturally immune to so many different types of pain they tend to be wusses whenever they finally find themselves forced to cope.


	9. The Return Of Potato and Stringbean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby gets an unexpected surprise when he visits Gaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of catchup to do with posting these requests here but as for this one: it’s Grillstertember on Tumblr right now and I was requested to do something with Grillster and babybones

‘Grillby do you recall my current side project for Asgore?’ Gaster’s fingers were uncharacteristically tense as he signed.

Grillby folded his arms and thought a moment. Gaster always had a habit of speaking far above what he could possibly understand, which made it difficult to understand what the projects were actually about. Before he could even guess he was cut off by Gaster’s quick hands, ‘Creating monster souls artificially in hopes of using them to shatter the barrier.’

He popped, “Yeah the ‘Crimes Against Nature’ one.” It was the nickname Gaster had given the project when he first delved into it but the terrible cringe that ran through him seemed to indicate he’d lost fondness for the title. “I remember,” he clumsily added as the monster’s nerves began to click through his bones.

‘Well,’ he clamped his teeth together as his fingers rubbed at the end of his sleeve, ‘it was a success. I successfully created not one but two souls using mine as a base.’

“That’s amazing Dings!” Stars, Grillby didn’t know what he’d have done if his friends self mutilation would have been for nothing. Just short of a year later and Gaster still couldn’t stand straight without straining against his missing ribs. The success must be why he was so urgent in his request for company, though, something like that should be at the labs shouldn’t it? Maybe Asgore was being particularly careful because of the taboo subject.

‘There were some… complications a few months ago,’ his fingers fought against his sleeves as if he could separate every thread. 

Grillby gently reached over to remove the anxious fingers from their prey, “What kind of complication?” When a pair of hand bullets appeared in the air he took it as his opportunity to run warmth through his cold hands.

‘A complicating kind.’ Grillby glanced over to Gaster quickly so as not to let him know the way he was eyeing the disheveled clothes and discoloration under his sockets. It wasn’t that the look was rare on him but it seemed a different type of exhaustion than usual. ‘Can I… show you?’

A soft squeeze from the hands in his grip pleaded for him to say yes; which he would have anyways. He was lead down the short hallway and into the moderately well kept. 

He blinked at the dim lighting and incorrect furniture that caught his glow. This… wasn’t what his office normally looked like. 

Where the desk had once been was now a bookshelf filled with all sorts of books for an intellectual level far below Gaster’s own. A soft light in the corner projected dots of white that barely moved in a circular motion against the wall in a poor impression of starlight. “I don’t…” His voice was stolen away from him as his eyes fell upon a pair of objects that did not belong in his friends house. 

Identical in size, and build, made of a sturdy wood, were two cribs similar to what proud parents played peek a boo over. Where children-- infants, he corrected, slept or played until their parents could retrieve them. The sort of thing one would expect after newlyweds returned after a honeymoon not anything your typical sciencey can’t commit type to ever possess. ‘You're green,’ Gaster swallowed.

“And you’re rattling,” Grillby’s voice barely managed a whisper.

Gaster shook his head, ‘That’s not me.’

It was a dumb statement, he knew before it even left him, but his mind was still fogged with disbelief, “But you’re the last skeleton.”

‘Not anymore,’ Gaster crossed over to one of the cribs, leaned over the rail, and made as calming of noises as his Font allowed.  

This… wasn’t real. There was no way this was real. Gaster wasn’t-- Despite his brilliance he was an idiot when it came to social conventions, he struggled to even make eye contact with anyone outside of his friend circle, pushed away any displays of affections, hid away when things went wrong, and refused to commit to anything that wasn’t mechanical. The monster in front of him was holding a child, not with disgust as he had Asriel, but in an attempt to be nurturing. Standing there holding a child so softly, it was a different skeleton than the one he knew. 

The tiny little thing’s head was placed in front of Gaster’s soul as tiny hands scratched to find something more than a shirt to hold onto. ‘This is String Bean the second artificial monster ever created.’

No matter how hard he tried words couldn’t find their way past the tongues of fire shouting different emotions he could not even name. What was he supposed to say? He should be supportive but he couldn’t even accept that this was real. ‘They were supposed to just be souls,’ his hands moved outside of his own volition, ‘what is that? Is it even a monster?’

The thing in his arms turned to look at him with furrowed brows as the magic in the room soured. Tears pricked their way along Gaster’s sockets until defined rattles escaped him. ‘I--’ Hand bullets just barely materialized enough to be read, ‘I don’t know.’ He fell to his knees pulling the tiny thing closer to him as full sobs began to escape him.

Immediately Grillby’s stomach cooled and he forced himself to his own knees, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry you just-- this isn’t anything I ever thought you--” He jerked back as something soft smacked against his shoulder. With disbelief in his flecks he turned his attention to the other crib to see a tiny large socketed skeleton with a permanent grin glaring daggers at him.

‘That’s Potato,’ Gaster wiped at his eyes while he signed with his actual hands, ‘the first.’ He exhaled a tuft of nervous air, ‘Not that it matters when they were so close together.’

“Can I hold them?”

Gaster shook his head, ‘No need to bother with such things. I’m sorry I should have gone about this differently… I just.’ This time it was String Bean to wipe the tears from Gaster’s eyes, well, it just sort of patted against them until they were gone.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that I just…” A pop escaped him, then a few crackles, before he found himself in a full fit of laughter, “How do you accidentally make babies?” He paused for a moment before he added, “Without a partner involved?”

‘The souls wanted to take a shape,’ he shrugged, ‘I was enamored with the results and waited too long to stop it.’

“What did Asgore say?”

‘He offered to take them, raise them,’ his eyes shifted down to String Bean in his arms then Potato up in the crib, ‘I foolishly declined.’

Grillby knew Gaster’s struggle with his own identity, or lack thereof, were the reason why he’d decided to take the task at hand. The idea of them growing up wondering why they were so different than their adoptive father must have torn him up. He clung desperately to String Bean as if he needed to do something to assure it he cared, that he would be there for it, no matter what. Grillby ran his fingers along the top of the tiny skeleton’s skull, “Did he name them?”

Gaster snorted wiping at his eyes, ‘No. That was me. I couldn’t call them A and B anymore but they are too little to have Fonts.’

“String Bean and Potato are awful names.”

‘Oh they won’t even remember!’ He scoffed. It was only now that Grillby caught the green squiggles on the onesie were of snap peas and the brown potatoes on the other one. 

The discarded stuffed monster that had hit him earlier caught his attention. He turned it over in his hands feeling the plush fabric beneath his thumbs, Gaster really wanted this. It wasn’t some sleep depraved whim but some baser desire to be something for someone. Internally he scoffed but he kept the anger fueled envy out of his flames. All of his own attempts to be that for his friend had been futile.

If Gaster wanted to be there for these lab accidents given form, well, he certainly couldn’t stop him now. He rose to his feet in order to return the plush to his attacker, “Can I hold them?” He asked again.

‘Sure,’ it was a bit of trial and error for Gaster’s long legs to find their way underneath him while still clutching String Bean but he found his way up. 

With an uncertain grip Grillby lifted the weightless thing into the air genuinely surprised by how strong the soul was beating inside the tiny rib cage. Stars, everything about it was tiny! The tiny fingers, tiny toes, tiny ribs, it was so fragile he wondered if he was burning too warmly for it. 

After staring daggers at him a little while longer Potato relaxed into his arms and fell back to sleep. Grillby’s flames twitched wildly as waves of magic rolled from the child and into his flames with emotions so pure they were undefinable. He’d never felt anything so… strong, not from something so small.

From Gaster’s arms String Bean reached for their slumbering brother, ‘Think you can handle both?’

“They don’t weigh anything,” Grillby chuckled adjusting his grip to accommodate a second bundle. String bean was much more active taking their time to pat at the tongues of flame that lifted off his form and observing his face before grabbing their siblings hand to join them in sleep.

‘Well, you’re a lot better at that than I am,’ Gaster wiped his skull, ‘I have no luck getting String Bean to stay asleep-- what’s wrong?’ His sockets were wide with concern as he scrutinized Grillby’s face. 

He wasn’t sure what he meant until he caught the soot drifting away from him: he was crying. Without any grace his shoulder came up to meet his eyes to wipe at them, not like that did any good. “I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m crying…” The two squirmed in his grip but just enough to be recognized. Their magic was humming against his flames turning the yellows soft and dimming the oranges, “They’re babies Gaster. Two little tiny baby monsters. Their magic, their souls, I-- I can feel them,” his tears found their way to his throat, “you made monsters.”

A smile equal parts elated and relieved grew plainly across his teeth, ‘I couldn’t find any of my abnormalities in them but… you can tell? They really are then.’ His fingers cupped around the back of Potato’s head.

“Yeah.”

The pair stood their eyes pinned to the tiny things slumbering in the flames arms. It definitely wasn’t how he had expected the day to go, and the oddity of it was certainly not gone, but he felt this was something he could get used to. “Dings, when did you last sleep?”

A nervous laugh was his only response. Grillby sighed, “I’ve got them. Why don’t you take a nap?”

He clamped his teeth together, ‘You’re sure you’re okay with them?’

Grillby tilted his head to the side subtly, “I’m not sure… but, a few hours of them curled up like this and I won’t have a choice but to be,” he smiled.

‘Come get me as soon as they’re up,’ he yawned letting his fatigue pull itself over him like a pair of pajamas. ‘Well, as soon as String Bean is up,’ he rubbed at his socket as another yawn pulled from him, ‘Potato is normally out for hours.’

“Go to sleep dork,” Grillby smirked, “I gotta make up to them for how rude I was.”

Gaster nodded, for a split second Grillby thought he was going to fall asleep right there, ‘It’s okay for me to want this right? Because I really do… I didn’t think I did… but looking at them I--’

Grillby pressed the bundles in his arms close to Gaster’s chest, “I thought it wasn’t like you,” Gaster’s head dropped onto Grillby’s shoulder, “but I see why you changed your mind.” He waited for a response that never came. Three skeletons were nuzzled against him fast asleep and he had the sneaky suspicion it wasn’t going to be the last time either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I should be catching up on these soon so be prepared for updates ^^’
> 
> Also I hope Grillby didn’t come off as too mean spirited normally people have months to prep the sudden arrival of babies and poor Grillby obviously didn’t know anything about this.


	10. Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anchestor asked on Tumblr for a Grillster Ice Skating date

“This is a terrible idea,” his glow danced along the blade of the skate he was attempting to tie. His fingers fumbled with the laces as his nerves got the best of him. Gaster sat on the slightly wet cushioned mat and tugged the strings tight enough he could feel the rivets. Of all the odd places Gaster had drug him over the last several months he didn’t think the monster could surprise him anymore but an ice skating rink was not anything he had anticipated.

As odd as it was for the gangly, moderately uncoordinated, skeleton to be so enthusiastic for an activity like this he found it hard to latch onto his energy. The way the humans had stared at him as he’d paid for entry, the way they were still staring, was putting hints of green in his flame that tainted the purity of the white skate.

‘It will be fine,’ Gaster grinned unabashadley in that cockeyed way of his. At least he was a little on edge too: his good eyelight would flick to someone whispering before focusing on him again. ‘You’re a very talented swordsman and an elegant dancer, this is just combining those things.’

Grillby stared dumbly at his partner the swooshing sound of those already in the rink helped punctuate his deadpan: “Gaster, they are nothing at all the same.”

‘You haven’t even tried it yet,’ he braced his hand against Grillby’s knee and rose with a tremendous wobble to his feet. ‘And at least here there isn’t a giant body of water underneath us.’

Grillby swallowed in fear of the thought, the sound of ice cracking splintered through his mind settling underneath the top layer of his flames. Gaster stepped heavy footed over to the entrance, an eager expression painted on his face. 

His breath coiled hot from his mouth only to fog up his glasses in the strange mismatched temperature that air conditioning and heaters in the same area created. With another hefty sigh he pulled his glasses away to clean them against the light jacket he wore over his usual attire. Once they were secured properly he rocked forward off of the wooden bench. His ankles gave a dangerous wobble but he realized that’s why the laces needed to be so tight.

If walking was this difficult he was increasingly nervous what skating was going to be like. 

Gaster stepped onto the ice then turned a tight circle to face him, ‘Now the first thing--’ His skates clicked together and he was suddenly jerked to the ground landing on the top of his femur with a wince.

Grillby’s soul stuttered, “Are you okay?” He reached down ready to take the skeleton away from this ridiculous idea and do something in normal shoes, on normal ground but his assistance was batted away.

‘That’s normal.’

“Well excuse me if I wanna skip the first step then,” he crackled despite himself.

A puff of warm air hovered lazily around Gaster’s teeth in a haughty huff, ‘This is good though. I can show you how to get up! Watch closely.’ He curled his knees up to his chest then lifted his shoulders before the rest of him followed suit, his skates threatened to betray him but he righted himself fully.

Gaster stuck his hands out in a sarcastic jazz hands before he tucked them in his pockets to warm them back up. It didn’t seem to take long as next thing Grillby knew the hands were around his and gently pressing him towards the ice. With a crooked step Grillby found his dominant foot against the ice and a mere second later so was his other foot. 

Alright, he did it. Good. His grip on Gaster’s hands was way more intense then he had intended and the poor monster was trying very hard to disguise his discomfort.

That was his cue to let go. Unfurl his fingers. Maybe awkwardly apologize? But no. He was still clinging to Gaster’s hands as if they were the only thing keeping him upright. Luckily Gaster didn’t seem to mind.

A pair of hand bullets appeared between them, ‘Now the trick to this is keeping your wait on the pads of your feet and your knees bent.’

“Like dodging,” he muttered repositioning himself.

‘Sort of,’ Gaster hummed while the bullets signed.

Grillby did his best to follow instructions, but he didn’t exactly feel graceful as he stomped his feet behind Gaster as they moved hand in hand around the rink. Each step was uncertain but he was growing less paranoid as they made their laps taking comfort in the other monster’s presence. 

Eventually he built up the confidence to bend his knees the way Gaster did, to gently push of the ice and move forward. It wasn’t pretty by any means but he was able to loosen his death grip on the boney fingers he held.

The sound of the blades against the ice was soft, precise, timed in a way that could be its’ own music.  _ Swish. Swish. _ His flames began to in an imitation of the song stoking into their usual oranges. He could almost--

He shut his eyes lightly, only focusing on the sound of shredding ice: back and forth. Maybe, maybe this was fun, well, enjoyable at least. Gaster repositioned his grip on Grillby’s hand and squeezed lightly as a display of comfort. The cool of the ice rushing to greet him wasn’t enough to put a chill in his core or make him feel stiff, the awkward feeling of the skates was almost completely gone when you were hovering inches from the ice, it was all so different but not in a bad way.

He opened his eyes confused not to meet the thin black clad figure that had been leading him. That didn’t make sense he was holding-- Grillby watched as the hand bullet dissipated upon being released. His flames snapped as he slid into the wall to stop. A few of the children around the rink chuckled at the sight but he didn’t know how else to do it.

With his features fixed in a playful scowl he turned around to glare daggers at Gaster who was waving with a mischievous grin. “Gaster!” He bellowed across the rink.

The skeleton’s shoulders jerked up in a display of shock before he took off in the opposite direction. Grillby’s grip on the wall tightened indecisively, he was enjoying himself more than he thought he would but he still lacked anything resembling skill or grace. 

Gaster mocked him from across the room actually managing some simple leaps and spins as he swayed lazily from side to side making a point to yawn as wide as he could muster. Fine. Fine. He let go of the wall and charged like a bullet fired from a pistol.

The other monster had been so shocked, so completely dumbfounded by the sudden movement, that he’d nearly forgotten he needed to get out of the way. At the last moment he hopped to the side leaving Grillby to smack once again into the barricade around the rink. ‘Goodness you can be fast if you want to,’ Gaster mused before he skirted teasingly away.

Grillby took a breath and, in much more of a controlled manner, skated after him. They danced an awkward dance that left Gaster always out of his reach, just enough to give him hope before the fabric would sway away from his fingertips. 

He’d reach further and further out trying desperately to grab anything he could only to just barely miss. It would be frustrating if it wasn’t for that skeletal smile, that soft hiccup of grinding mechanical noises that came with his laughter, or even just the sight of him moving in such a fluid movement.

Gaster was usually so shallow and reserved in his steps; allowing only his hands to flutter about however they desired. Here he was extending his arms in crisp clean movements, his legs were making strong lines as he suddenly changed direction. It was so different than his usual self that always stepped on his toes when they danced or cursed at his limbs when he had to get in the truck. Gaster always glowed so bright, he was smart, and cunning, but graceful wasn’t a word he thought of until seeing him like this.

Finally, Grillby reached out and snagged the monster’s hand as he attempted to perform a tight spiral to dodge. Somewhere between Grillby’s over extended arm and Gaster’s already started momentum he found himself nearly tossed to the ground in good company sliding on his back across the ice still firmly grasping Gaster’s hand.

They laid there on the ice a bit dazed as they wondered how they got there before Gaster started to laugh, and without any attempt to hold back. The people that skated around them gave them odd looks as Gaster tried, and failed, to contain his laugh but they didn’t matter. Grillby squeezed his hand tight and laughed right along with him until the skater in charge of safety informed them they needed to get up.

‘Do you remember how?’ Gaster asked with shaky hands as he breathed out the last of his laugh.

“It’s the first thing right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to try to catch up on posting the Tumblr requests here over the next couple of days.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one! It was a lot of fun to write :)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave requests in the comments below or on my Tumblr


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